


Lightning Strikes

by casenpai



Series: Unlikely Heroes [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2884874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casenpai/pseuds/casenpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>South Park: a redneck, podunk town plagued by rampant crime committed by petty criminals and supervillains alike. Thankfully, the town can rely on a number of superheroes and vigilantes to protect them in their time of need. What happens, though, when a new player shows on the field… one that only sides with themselves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a South Park alternate universe where the South Park boys -- aged to teenagers in this story -- actually have the superpowers and personas depicted in the Coon and Friends episodes. For example, Toolshed has psychokinetic abilities over power tools and construction equipment, and The Human Kite has the power of flight and the ability to shoot lasers out of his eyes. In this reality, however, the kids don't know anyone else's identities, except in a few cases.
> 
> If you're new to the fandom, I would highly suggest watching "The Coon", "Coon 2: Hindsight", "Mysterion Rises", and "Coon vs. Coon and Friends" to get an idea of each superhero's abilities, though I'll describe things in detail as characters are introduced. As well, I make references to "Pandemic" and "Pandemic 2", so you might want to familiarise yourself with those too.
> 
> Please enjoy, and if you leave feedback, please make it constructive!

_South Park… a typical small town redneck community. By day, the town is tame enough, with the populace busying itself with its day-to-day lives, with the occasional strangeness spicing things up._

_By night, however… it was like looking in a twisted reflection of small town America; crime was rampant, ranging from petty misdemeanours to grand larceny. Some say that it was the result of the strange happenings in town, others claim the perpetrators hailed from the surrounding towns, hoping that the citizens quiet mountain town were easy pickings. The mayor, a somewhat corrupt and misguided individual, was powerless to manage a significant increase in crime, and the local police department could only be described as woefully incompetent._

_However, what these villains didn’t count on was the existence of a group that would protect the small town in which they lived. Formerly members of a group called “Coon and Friends”, these remarkable teenagers, each with their own unique abilities, worked in their own ways to stem the inexorable tide of crime. Some valued teamwork, working with one another to bring criminals to justice. Others, still, preferred to work alone, relying solely on their own powers to guide their way._

_Certainly, there were some criminals that were more competent than others; former allies turned deluded by their own schemes, as well as those wronged by the ones they believed were friends, were but a sample of what South Park’s heroes had to face on a nightly basis. For the most part, they could be dealt with, though they had to remain ever-vigilant of the schemes they hatched._

_What happens, though, when a new player shows on the field… one that only sides with themselves?_  

 

* * *

  

**South Park**

_ Lightning Strikes _

 

* * *

 

Craig Tucker, South Park High’s quasi-emotionless deadpan snarker who never hesitated to be as blunt as possible when faced with idiocy, was in a foul mood. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d been kept up most of the night by noise outside -- whether they were gunshots or fireworks, he’d never find out, nor did he care -- or even the news blaring out in the living room at 7:30 in the morning, the news anchor singing praises of the latest superhero escapade… nevermind the fact that the side of a building got blown to smithereens in the name of apprehending two or three crooks.

That was the problem with these so-called protectors of this podunk town -- they stopped the bad guys, sure, but they ended up causing so much collateral damage in the process, whether it was from their arrests or their occasional infighting. And why were there so many in such a small place?

That question would remain unanswered, no matter how many times Craig vocalised it… not that there was anyone at home with whom he could talk about it. With a groan, he meandered over to the television, shutting it off with a quick flick of his wrist, the screen going dark as the flicker of electrical energy struck the switch; his eyes flashed with the same white-blue energy as the energy discharged, fading to their natural hue after a moment.

His electrical abilities were Craig’s best kept secret, even though others had witnessed it; in the midst of an ill-fated plot hatched by his classmates, he travelled to Peru, of all places, where he had been infused with energy from an ancient incan ruin. After using his abilities to save his friends and his town from giant guinea pigs, everyone thought that was the last anyone would see of his powers... instead, he simply kept them to himself.

If anything, they were a good way to charge a dead cell phone.

After glancing at the paper on the table, which also described in great detail the latest vigilante's escapade, Craig spat out an epithet before grabbing his bookbag and heading off to school.

* * *

 

"What I want to know is this," Craig began as he gathered his books for the next class, his usually impassive expression tinged with annoyance. "How come these guys are getting away with this? They're causing more destruction than the criminals they're trying to catch. I know our police force is fucking useless, but don't you think it's kind of weird that they're turning a blind eye to all this?"

"I don't know," Token replied as he replaced his books. "Maybe they have a secret deal with the police. It's not like we know the identities of any of the superheroes."

"I think that's what the problem is," Craig grumbled. "We don't know who they are, and we let them take over our city. They're just as bad as those supervillains."

"They're not _that_ bad," Token said with a laugh. "They're keeping the city safe, and that's what matters, right? It's not like anyone minds what they do."

"They _should_ mind." Craig's tone was filled with anger, and he slammed his locker loud enough that other students turned to look at what was going on. Without even sparing a glance at the onlookers, he made his way to his English class, leaving Token to stare at him, bewildered.

* * *

 

The school day crawled by as it typically did, though by the time Craig began making his way home from the park where he had been shooting hoops with Clyde and Token, it was well past 6:30 PM. The sun was well on its way to setting when his phone buzzed, the panicked vibrating telling him who the sender was before he even looked at his screen.

Craig had expected Tweek’s text message to be about the usual things -- his petition to the mayor to get rid of the Underpants Gnomes, or asking to hang out after his shift. What he didn’t expect was what he’d actually received:

> 
>     » ccr a i g y ou g o t at  h e lp m e
>     » my s ter io n a nd t he  coo  n   ae r
>     » fi g thi gn ri g htt o u t sitted t eh s h op
>     » th ey arle ad y  s   mm as he do n e of th e wni do ws
>     » im so s ca rd  pl ss e he pl i d ont w aan t  t o d   ie  

The coffee junkie’s spastic texting was even more illegible than it usually was, but to him, the message was clear: Tweek was scared, and he needed him. **_Now_**.

Without a second thought, Craig immediately bolted for Tweek Bros, stuffing his cell phone in his pocket as he went; he was nowhere close to the questionable coffee shop, given that he’d been close to home, but that didn’t stop him from running as if his life depended on it, dashing into traffic and weaving his way between moving vehicles, ignoring the angry shouts and blaring horns he was getting from the drivers he was cutting off.  

By the time he got there, the fight was already over; there were already four police cruisers on the scene, their strobing red and blue lights flooding the area. The cops themselves were busy collecting evidence from the scene, and from where Craig was standing, the shop seemed completely vacated.

But where was Tweek?

The sudden panicked squeak answered the question for him as he turned towards the scene off to the side of the café, away from the supposed evidence gathering. Tweek was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his arms covering his head, as the hooded figure before him spoke to the cowering blond in a firm tone that conveyed urgency.

Oh, he knew who that guy was… that was Mysterion, the so-called protector that South Park apparently needed.  

“What did The Coon say after he smashed the front window? Did he give a reason why he targeted this place?” Mysterion asked, his voice tinged with annoyance as Tweek yelped and buried his face against his knees.

“Agh! I-I… I-I don’t… I don’t k-know!  I d-didn’t… GAH!” Tweek yelped as his left eye spasmed, and he looked at Mysterion with terror in his eyes. “I-I d-didn’t h-hear what he said!”

“Think, man!” Mysterion urged as he grabbed his shoulders, shaking the blond lightly. “This is the one piece of evidence that we’re missing! There’s no reason why The Coon would attack this place!”

“J-Jesus!” Tweek stammered, his eyes wide with panic as he tried to back away from the caped crusader. “I-I d-d-don’t k-know! I-I don’t r-remember!”

“Hey, I think you’ve questioned him enough.”

Both Mysterion and Tweek stared at Craig, who slowly walked towards the two; the blue-clad teen stopped a few feet away from the scene, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring hatefully at Mysterion, who straightened up to stare at the newcomer.

“Mind your own business, citizen,” Mysterion said in a curt tone as he raised his eyebrow at Craig. “This is official business.”

“Tweek’s safety is _my_ business, _superhero_ ,” Craig replied, his sarcasm punctuating his sentence. “He doesn’t remember. Just leave him alone.”

Mysterion straightened up, then, and he stared at Craig for a long moment before turning to Tweek.

“If you remember anything, anything at all, report to the police as soon as possible. Anything would help.” Mysterion held out his hand to Tweek, intending to help him up, but the blond shook his head, seeming to prefer to stay where he sat. Mysterion shrugged at that, and after giving Craig and Tweek another glance, he went off on his way, taking to the rooftops as soon as it seemed convenient.

Once he was assured that Mysterion was gone, Craig turned to Tweek, kneeling next to his friend and looking at him close, concern reflected in his blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

Now that he was relatively safe, Tweek stared at Craig for a moment before he completely broke down, gripping onto his jacket and wailing into it; while Craig knew that he was trying to say something between his panicked sobs, it came out as nothing but gibberish.

“It’s okay, Tweek… take it easy…” Craig gently stroked Tweek’s hair, letting the blond cry himself out. Inside, though, he was seething. Those supers were getting out of hand… collateral damage, bullying?

He wasn’t going to take it anymore.

* * *

 

It’d taken him most of the night, and he was going to pay for it in the morning… but Craig was done with his impromptu project. If he was going to play the anti-hero, then he might as well look the part. The outfit was reminiscent of his trip to Peru back when he was 10 years old, and he felt that the half-mask he’d fashioned out of scraps he’d found in the garage and the attic would hide his identity well enough.

Craig couldn’t help but smirk as he looked at himself in the mirror, and his eyes crackled with electrical energy at the thought of finally putting those so-called heroes in their place.  

If he was going to fight fire… he was going to do it with lightning.


	2. Chapter 2


      **» Taco Bell construction site -  10:12 PM (one month later) «**
    

“That should do it,” Toolshed said as he closed the panel to the electrical breakers; all the kitchen equipment was scheduled to be put in tomorrow, but something was causing the electrical to short out without warning, and that was trouble. While it might have been considered overkill to call in a superhero to figure out the problem, Toolshed didn’t mind; after all, helping others, no matter how small the problem might be, was something he enjoyed doing.

At first glance, the teen didn't seem like much of a superhero; clad in a plain white shirt, jeans, and yellow safety goggles, with a heavy leather belt fitted with every single handheld power tool imaginable, Toolshed looked more like a teen with a penchant for do-it-yourself projects rather than a guardian of the city. However, his real power lay in how he used the equipment at his disposal; he had the curious ability to manipulate tools -- as well as construction equipment -- with a single thought, allowing him to use even the most innocuous of power screwdrivers as a deadly weapon. Not that he liked fighting, of course, but he was certainly no pushover.

“Thanks, Toolshed,” the site’s foreman said with a sigh of relief, looking in satisfaction at the lights illuminating the empty restaurant. “Sorry we had to call on ya for something so stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the raven-haired superhero replied with a grin. “I’m looking forward to having a bite to eat here when the place is open too, you know.”

The foreman left quickly after saying his goodbyes, leaving Toolshed alone on site. The teen paused, however, as he looked around; he didn’t want to say it to the foreman’s face, but the wiring job had been shoddy. And if the inside of the restaurant was that bad, what was the outside like?

Knowing that half the town would be there for the grand opening, he wasn’t going to take any chances; as he walked around the site, he did a few repairs of his own -- a loose shingle here, a badly installed sign covering there… by the time he was done, it was almost midnight, but he could sleep easier knowing that the sign wouldn’t fall on someone’s head while they waited for their quesadilla.

As Toolshed was preparing to leave, a resounding crack echoed through the air, like a hundred breakers shutting off at once. The floodlamps that illuminated the construction site all shut off at once, plunging the area in a thick blanket of darkness.

"Fuck," Toolshed muttered under his breath as he looked around. Had he screwed up with the wiring somehow? It was going to take him forever to figure out what went wrong, and he didn’t relish the idea of yet another sleepless night.

Reaching for the flashlight that hung on toolbelt, he paused as he felt the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. He let his hand fall limp as he slowly looked around, his eyes straining as he tried to pierce the gloom surrounding him. He couldn’t help but feel that something was going to happen -- and soon -- and he tensed as he tried to figure out what was going on.

The answer came right then: a blinding flash of blue lightning suddenly crashed a few feet away from him -- not close enough to strike him, but the force of the impact threw him back several feet. The hero recovered quickly from the blast, however, drawing both a drill and a nail gun from the holsters his belt as he skid to a stop near a steamroller, dust rising around his feet as he looked around for the source of the attack.

“That was quite impressive,” a hollow voice intoned as a static-like sound crackled in the air, a few of the floodlamps turning back on and partially illuminating the site once more. “I didn’t expect you to withstand that.”

Standing on top of the roof was a man dressed in an ornate, blue poncho with yellow tassels, his face half-covered by a gold incan mask. More important was the derisive look he seemed to be giving Toolshed... as if he were nothing more than a pathetic insect.

"Who the hell are you?" Toolshed asked, his eyes narrowing as the tension in the air became even heavier.

"You may call me Lightning Bolt," the figure replied, his tone once more bereft of any emotion. “I’ve come to pass judgement upon you for the crimes you’ve committed against the citizens of South Park.”

“Judgement…?” Toolshed repeated, his grip on his weapons tightening as he considered the stranger’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You claim to protect the citizens of South Park, but in the process, you harm the town.” Lightning Bolt crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Toolshed with a cold expression. “How can you claim to be a guardian of the city when you commit as many crimes as the criminals you attempt to apprehend?”

Toolshed widened his eyes. “Hey, no, wait a sec… when did I ever put South Park in any danger?”

“You sent a wrecking ball into the side of the old slaughterhouse.”

“C’mon, the place was an eyesore anyways! And we saved that hostage, didn’t we?”

“You flooded South Park High’s basement when trying to stop a cult from worshipping gnome underwear.”

“It’s not like there’s anything down there… no harm done, right?”

Lightning Bolt frowned. “The school was closed for a week.”

“Yeah. Like I said, no harm done, right?” Toolshed laughed nervously despite himself, but his expression became serious again as he gestured at Lightning Bolt. “What does it matter? Damage can be repaired -- it’s not like we try and fuck things up!”

“And what if you tried? If you and the other so-called heroes actually intended to bring harm to South Park, the town would be finished.” Lightning Bolt’s one visible eye flared up, then, crackling with blue static energy tinged with yellow.  

“I judge you unworthy of protecting South Park,” he said without emotion as Toolshed saw a lightning bolt streak right at him, the last thing he saw before everything went white.

 

* * *

 

To say that Kyle Broflovski was a morning person would be a complete lie, but it was just one of the many things he had to pretend to be good at doing in order to please his parents. He nodded in thanks as his mom put breakfast in front of him -- eggs, turkey sausage, and toast -- while his father turned on the small television they kept in the kitchen.

Kyle’s focus was entirely on his phone, however, as he stared at his text message app; it was unusual for Stan not to reply to his texts, especially at this time. Kyle was usually flooded with messages from his best friend, and for him to be so silent was a cause for concern. Had he overslept?

Before Kyle could excuse himself from the table so he could call him, however, the news came on the air, its theme blaring obnoxiously before cutting to the news anchor.

_“And now for our top story: Toolshed, one of South Park’s beloved superheroes, is in critical condition after being found by construction workers early this morning. The young superhero was found tied to the top of a telephone pole with grievous injuries. Now, some of the images you’re about to see might be disturbing to younger children, and viewer discretion is advised.”_  
  
---  
  
 Kyle stared in horror as he saw the news report, the reporter’s grave-sounding words blending together and fading into the background as his sole focus became the image of his battered friend.  

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Sheila said as she put a few more turkey sausages on Kyle’s plate. “I can’t believe anyone would do that to… Kyle?! Where are you going, young man?!”

Kyle paid no attention to his mother’s outburst as he all but lept out of his chair and dashed for the front door. It took him seconds to slip on his shoes and grab his backpack before he ran out the house, heading towards Hell’s Pass Hospital where Stan had probably been brought.

I can’t believe this… Kyle’s thoughts unconsciously echoed his mother’s words as he ran, and while he wished he could get away with flying there, he couldn’t do that while wearing his everyday clothes. Who the hell would do this…?

There were no answers for him... all he could do was hurry to be by his friend's side.


	3. Chapter 3

**» Hell’s Pass Hospital, 7:54 am «**

 

The first thing Kyle noticed was that the hospital seemed to be much busier than usual; given there wasn’t a typical South Park-style emergency going on where half the town needed medical attention, he could only assume that the activity was due to the facility’s newest patient. Indeed, the front of the building was clogged up with news vans, police cruisers, and curious bystanders who wanted to get a glimpse of one of South Park's vigilantes, and possibly see them unmasked.

The teen was about to push his way through the throng in order to get into the facility when he saw an older man in a lab coat, his expression one of fatigue and annoyance, exit the hospital. The media immediately swarmed him, and the area turned into a sea of white as cameras flashed and microphones were shoved in the poor man's face.

Eventually, a pair of orderlies managed to push the overeager crowd away, enough that the older man was able to address the voracious media without getting crushed.

“You fuckers are a bunch of vultures, aren’t you?” the man grumbled with a sigh, and he seemed to express an enormous amount of willpower as yet another microphone was shoved in his face.

“Doctor!” a journalist called out. “Is it true that Toolshed was admitted here last night?”

“Yes, yes it’s true,” the doctor acknowledged. “He’s in critical condition, but we’ve managed to stabilise hi-...”

“And have you discovered his true identity? All of South Park is curi-... HEY!”

The journalist yelped as the microphone was forcibly snatched out of his hands, and the doctor cleared his throat before addressing the gathering with a no-nonsense tone in his voice.

“Alright, listen up, because I’m only going to say this once: yes, we admitted Toolshed early this morning with life-threatening injuries. No, we don’t know who or what caused it. Police are assisting with the investigation. No, I’m not saying where he was found. And no, I don’t know what his true identity is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you idiots anyways! This press conference is OVER!”

With that, the doctor dropped the microphone on the ground, ignoring the desperate pleas from the press for further information, as he turned around and went back in the building.

Kyle watched the scene unfold from where he was standing, and it was only after the crowd dispersed that he let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding in the entire time; one of the group’s biggest fears was the possibility of being unmasked if ever they required medical attention that was beyond their rudimentary first-aid skills, and it was the first time that any of them had needed to receive treatment at Hell’s Pass. To hear the doctor refuse to give away Toolshed’s identity was a huge weight off Kyle’s shoulders, and it was comforting to know that acerbic attitude aside, they had an unexpected ally here.

With the entrance to the hospital somewhat clear now that the media had gone to report their findings, Kyle was free to investigate on his own.

But first…

As Kyle went around the building, ducking into a storage shed with a rusty lock that couldn’t even stop his little brother, he questioned what exactly had gone through his mind when he chose his superhero persona. It’s not that the Human Kite was a bad identity -- he could shoot lasers out of his eyes, fly, and use the strings at his belt to ensnare enemies -- but to say that the costume was awkward to manoeuvre into was the grossest of understatements.

Unfortunately for him, people were used to seeing him in the garb he was donning: a loose, kite-emblazoned blue-grey jumpsuit, with a cowl that concealed his distinctive red hair. The glasses that usually framed his face were gone -- he’d replaced the lenses with fakes so he could wear all-day contacts in case of a quick change -- revealing his piercing green eyes. A large, red and yellow diamond-shaped kite, which was strapped to his back, completed the outfit.

… It was that kite that usually caused him problems.

Pushing thoughts of redesigning his outfit out of his mind, Kyle -- now the Human Kite --  left the storage shed, electing to enter the hospital via conventional means… it wouldn’t do to fly into Toolshed’s room and run the risk of freaking people out.

After asking a nurse the location of Toolshed’s room --  and calming the poor man as he seemed to go into an apoplectic fit over seeing a superhero in the hospital lobby -- Kite went up to the sixth floor room to find the doctor himself checking the unconscious hero’s vitals.

“What’s the prognosis, doctor?” Kite asked in a gruffer tone than his normal voice as he glanced past the physician, looking at his prone colleague with a slight wince; though his wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, it was clear to him that he’d been on the losing side of whatever fight he’d been thrown into.  He looked vulnerable without the yellow safety goggles that concealed his identity, and he wanted nothing more than to whisk him away for his protection.

The doctor turned at the sound of Kite’s voice, and the teen felt as if the older man was scrutinising every single detail about him, right down to the way he was leaning against the door frame.  After an awkward silent moment, the doctor grunted in satisfaction, turning back to his patient.

“Construction workers found him shortly after 5:00 AM at the new Taco Bell site at Fifth and Main,” the doctor began, not even facing Kite as he spoke. “Bruises, cuts, lacerations… and he’s got one hell of a concussion. If you ask me, it looks like a pack of dogs used him as a chew toy and then spat him back out.”

“That’s not all, though.” The doctor turned to Kite, showing him an outline of the human body, with red circles drawn on the torso, right arm, and both legs. “Burn marks. Not due to fire, either… these are electrical burns.”

“... Electrical burns?” Kite stared at the diagram in confusion, then back at Toolshed. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, you fucking dipshit,” the grey-haired man replied tartly as he shoved the chart back in the holder at the foot of the bed. “I’ve seen both, and those are electrical burns.” He motioned to Toolshed’s legs. “Lightning travels up -- assuming he got into a fight,  I’d say someone was using him as a lightning rod. Zapped him in the chest, too, so it wasn’t just a bolt from the blue.”

Kite let the insult slide as a million thoughts ran through his mind. It was easy to rule out the possibility that the injuries were due to an accident, given how he was found strung up a pole like a broken marionette. He could think of only one person who had electrical-based attacks in South Park, however, though such sudden violence would be a new kind of _modus operandi_ for him.

As the doctor was about to leave, however, Kite snapped out of his musing; the teen’s expression was hesitant as he cleared his throat, looking unsure as to how to phrase his next words.

“Er… I witnessed the press conference, and I saw how you refused to reveal his true identity. I… Just want to thank you for your discretion, doctor. You didn’t have to, but it means a lot to us.”

“Forget about it,” the doctor grunted as he waved his hand dismissively. “You brats are doing the town a favour… it’s the least I can do.” He paused as he glared at Kite. “... Still brats, though.”

“If you’re sticking around, don’t try poking him awake or I’ll break that kite on your back and feed it to you rectally.” The doctor’s tone was so deadpan that Kite was fairly certain that he was serious about his threat, and all he could do was nod as the older man motioned to the emergency call button. “If he wakes up, call the nurse. If he gets worse, call the nurse.”

With that, Kite was left to his own devices, alone in a too-white room with his injured best friend.

 _Stan…_ he thought inwardly as he watched his friend’s face. His expression was peaceful, the chemical concoction dripping through the IV in his arm doing its job to spare him the pain of his injuries. _Who did this to you…?_

 

* * *

 

Though Kite had rushed out the door without anything but his costume and his tablet, he managed to busy himself by poring over police reports from the last 48 hours, all the while remaining by Toolshed's side. The first thing he noticed was that there were no calls pertaining to the fight, which was unsurprising if it was during the middle of the night, but there were no reports of any lightning strikes in the vicinity. Worse, the sky had been clear last night, and there were no reports from the National Weather Service in Denver of strange weather.

As Kite pondered the lack of reports, he heard the figure next to him stir, a soft groan following the movement. The redhead immediately forgot all about his tablet as he tossed it aside, the device landing in his kite which he'd laid out on the floor, and he turned to face his injured colleague.

"Hey man," he said with a small smile as he watched Toolshed's eyes open. "How do you feel...?"

The prone superhero groaned in response, his expression dazed as he seemed to struggle with consciousness. "... did I suddenly turn into Mr. Hankey...?" he asked through the ventilator to which he was hooked up.

"No...?" Kite responded with a confused expression. "... why?"

"... because I feel like _shit_ , dude..."

The exhausted but wry smile Toolshed gave him caught Kite off-guard, and he couldn't help but laugh at his friend's stupid-ass comment.  Despite how bad things seemed, everything was going to be alright, somehow.

After Kyle summoned the nurses and they took whatever readings they needed to take, the two vigilantes were left alone, the door shut against those who might be curious about their conversations.

"So... what happened?" Kyle asked as he sipped at a cup of water that one of the nurses had brought him. "The police reports are sucking ass in the information department."

Toolshed paused, his expression clouded as he scrunched up his face. "I was at the new Taco Bell taking care of an electrical issue... and I was checking things over afterwards to see if there was anything else that the workers fucked up, right...? Except this guy came out of nowhere... said he was... 'judging' me or something..."

The raven-haired vigilante sighed as he put a hand to his temple. "... dude, I have no idea who this guy was, but he's **strong**... I've never seen powers like this before. Whoever he is, though... he's got some kind of beef against me..."

Kite sighed at Toolshed’s words… none of this was making any sense whatsoever. Who would have anything against him? Out of all the vigilantes, he was the least aggressive, and he wouldn’t have had any opportunity to make any enemies.

“Well… you rest,” Kite said after a moment of thought. “I’ll look into things more… I’ll pull up a history of criminals with vendettas against you or the rest of us.” His words didn’t sound certain, however -- there was something strange about the whole situation.

“... okay…” Exhaustion was clearly beginning to overtake the injured teen, and his eyes drooped as he struggled to stay awake. “... keep your eyes peeled, okay…? Who knows what that asshole’s up to…”

“I’ll be careful, don’t worry.” Kite flashed a reassuring grin that felt fake even to him, and he left the room after picking up his things. He quietly closed the door behind him…

… and came face-to-face with Mysterion, Tupperware, and The Coon, all of whom were looking at Kite with various degrees of concern; it ranged from genuine worry from Tupperware to complete and utter disdain from The Coon.

“How is he?” Tupperware asked, his characteristic hollow voice tinged with concern.

“He’s awake,” Kite replied. “He barely remembers anything from the attack, but the attacker did have lightning-based abilities.”

“Lightning?” Tupperware blinked, and he looked at the other two supers in confusion.

“Meh, he probably pissed on an electric fence and zapped himself,” The Coon muttered with a snicker, which elicited a glare from Mysterion.

“It’s a shame he doesn’t remember…” the hooded vigilante said, a tinge of regret in his gravelly voice. “Then again, it almost seems like a random attack.”

“A random attack?” Kite frowned at Mysterion as he tried not to let his dismissive attitude get the better of him. “This is more like someone specifically targeted him. Toolshed said that the guy said he was ‘passing judgment’ on him… what if he goes after us, too?”

Mysterion raised an eyebrow. “A one-off attack does not constitute a trend, Human Kite.”

“It’s worth looking into. Besides, if the attacker had lightning powers, we should be looking into Professor Chaos’ actions. He’s the only one who has that kind of ability.”

“Chaos?” The Coon laughed. “He can’t even pee straight without someone to hold him steady.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like something he’d do…” Tupperware admitted. “He’s never gone after us all that seriously.”

“I agree,” Mysterion concluded, and the tone in his voice left little room for argument… something that only served to infuriate Kite further.

“Fine. Just watch your backs… there’s someone out there with a vendetta against one of our own, and I don’t intend to let him get away with it.”

With that, Kite turned on his heel and left, his fists clenching and unclenching as he made his way out of the hospital. Mysterion was always quick to dismiss any theory he had, and it was pissing him off. Who died and put him in charge, anyways?

Lacking any other leads, Kite made his way back to the storage shed where he’d dropped off his civilian clothes. Patrolling would have to wait -- he had research to do.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Hopefully the length makes up for it. Thank you, all, for following this story... it means a lot to me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the vigilantes of South Park still reeling from the brutal attack on Toolshed, one of their own decides to step in and take out Lightning Bolt himself. But will The Coon be able to stop a supervillain who claims he’s a god, or will he find himself outmatched?

> _`And now, for our top story: Channel 9 news has learned that Toolshed has been released from hospital. It is still unknown what caused the superhero's extensive injuries, but investigation is ongoing. Reporting live from the hospital is a midget in a bikini--` _

 

** *click* **

 

** » Downtown South Park -  12:53 AM (one week later) « **

Although Toolshed was released from the hospital several days after the attack, and a convenient story had been spun by the hospital administration to explain Stan’s disappearance from school, the attack remained fresh in the mind of almost every vigilante that protected South Park. Despite Mysterion's gruff reassurances that it seemed to be an isolated incident, everyone remained on their guard, the threat of a random, unprovoked attack lingering in the back of their minds.

Everyone… except for The Coon, that is.

He had to give himself credit -- he’d managed to hold his tongue while that loser Kite was trying to convince Mysterion that Toolshed had been targeted. He wanted nothing more than to mock both him and the lame excuse for a superhero with a power tool fetish, but he was only there to check to see if he’d actually survived getting his ass handed to him.

He would have wanted his stuff if he hadn’t.

No, now was his chance to prove that he was _really_ South Park’s protector. He was the original, after all -- Mysterion was just some idiot who decided to copy The Coon’s recognisable brand, and ever since then, he’d been pushed aside, everyone and their dog tripping over themselves to play the hero.

Well, _he’d_ show them.

The heavyset superhero surveyed his city from the rooftop of a condemned apartment building, the block’s inhabitants having long ago left for safer accommodations. Though he hardly seemed the type to be able to protect a city, much less climb the side of a six storey building, The Coon was more than capable of holding his own… not that many had seen that side of him.

The portly teen’s costume did a somewhat good job of disguising him: clad in a red cape and dressed in a brown top and pants, with a white shirt underneath emblazoned with his logo, his face was concealed with a raccoon mask that, in his opinion, made him seem like a force to be reckoned with. He was equipped with razor-sharp claws, and the yellow belt wrapped around his substantial girth was well-equipped with all manner of tools to help him fight crime.

It was the perfect outfit… one that was worthy of South Park’s _true_ protector.

Footsteps alerted him to the presence of someone else on the quiet rooftop… but was it friend or foe? As he turned, his keen eyes spied the presence of someone he’d never seen before -- a tall person clad in a dark blue poncho, his face half-obscured by a golden mask.

“So,” The Coon asked in a forced, rasping voice as he looked at the newcomer with a derisive sneer. “I take it that _yew_ are the guy called Lightning Bolt?” The superhero couldn’t help but chuckle as he stared at the mantled newcomer. “Seriously, yew have to work on your name if yew want people to actually fear yew.” His voice dipped down to a dramatic whisper before continuing. “Like, dude, that name’s _really_ lame.”

“I don’t particularly care what you think, Coon,” Lightning Bolt replied, his even voice echoing from behind the mask. “Nor do I think the citizens of South Park care, either -- you didn’t need to spray-paint your thoughts concerning me on the side of the community centre in big red letters, along with a picture of a phallus with my name on it.”

“But it got your attention, didn’t it?” The Coon laughed before continuing. “Hah! Yew fell for my trap like a fucking idiot!”

“Your _trap_ ,” Lightning Bolt repeated -- if it was at all possible, he sounded even more deadpan than he did before. “This doesn’t look like much of a trap.”

“Of course it’s a fucking trap! Sheesh, get with the fucking program, dildo.” The Coon unsheathed his claws in a dramatic, exaggerated gesture as he dropped into a fighting stance. “I am The Coon, South Park’s _original_ superhero, and I’m going to kick your fucking ass!”

“Really,” Lightning Bolt replied, his one visible eye staring at the bandit-faced thug. “Seeing as you seemed like a complete waste of my time, I was going to leave you be... but since you are so eager to be judged, I suppose I’ll have to acquiesce to your demand.”

Lightning Bolt’s poncho flared up as a circle of crackling azure energy surrounded him, and it gathered in his outstretched hand before he flung it right at the caped superhero, the force of the impact knocking him back with a surprised yelp as he landed in a heap.

“That wasn’t even a challenge,” Lightning Bolt muttered as he turned around, walking back towards the fire escape through which he’d climbed. Had the childling called him here simply to be a waste of his time..?

As he opened the rusted door, Lightning Bolt suddenly felt a searing pain as he felt metal tear through his back before he was slammed face-first into the door. He hissed under his breath as he struggled to shake off the weight off his back, pushing himself off the door and throwing his aggressor aside, his hateful glare focused on a smug-looking Coon, who was looking at his bloodied claws with a smirk.

“Well, whaddya know… I guess ‘gods’ bleed red, huh?”

“An astute observation.” While Lightning Bolt didn’t want to admit it, he’d clearly underestimated his opponent -- how did he manage to withstand his attack? That same attack made easy work of Toolshed, but judging from how he was carrying himself, The Coon hardly seemed affected. Moreover, he seemed quite capable of going on the offensive, which he hadn’t expected…

Had his weakness all been an act?

“Not so tough now, huh?!” The Coon laughed as he saw Lightning Bolt’s hesitation, and he took the opportunity to go all out; pulling a handful of tubes from his utility belt, he flung them at the so-called god as he rushed in; Lightning Bolt winced as the flash caps exploded in his face, and all he could do was block the superhero’s claws as he attacked wildly, throwing a concentrated lightning blast as soon as the glare subsided. The Coon grunted as he was thrown back by the energy, but he seemed to shake it off as if it’d been a simple static shock, and he rushed in again with unnatural speed, screeching as he aimed his claws right at his face, which were barely stopped by his mask.

Lightning Bolt broke away, then, dashing across the rooftop as his mind raced; he’d never fought toe-to-toe with one of the vigilantes before, and it was thanks to the element of surprise that he’d managed to defeat Toolshed. The lack of fighting experience was clearly proving to be his weak point… How was he supposed to take out The Coon in light of that?

He could always run, but doing so would prove to the superheroes that one of their weakest members could defeat him…

No… he wasn’t going to allow it!

“Ey! Get back here so I can kick your ass!” The Coon chased after Lightning Bolt, claws extended; once more he pulled several tubes from his belt, lobbing them at the supervillain as he escaped. Lightning Bolt evaded them easily enough as he pointed behind him, conjuring mines of electrical energy directly in his path in the hopes of slowing him down. The Coon yelped as he ran into the first one, but it hardly stopped him; though they’d been placed in a way that made it difficult for anyone to evade them, Lightning Bolt was surprised to see the vigilante dodge them with superhuman agility that seemed uncharacteristic of his girth.

So that was it! He seemed, on the surface, an inoffensive weakling, but he had superhuman resilience and agility… just like the raccoon persona he’d taken on.

Lightning Bolt glanced at the building across from the one they were fighting on, a plan slowly forming in his mind as he conjured a protective shield around him; as The Coon caught up to him, he winced as he felt the shield buckle as soon as his claws connected, a fleeting expression of pain crossing the vigilante’s face as electricity streamed through his hands. With a cry of rage, The Coon broke through the shield, grappling the god-like supervillain and spinning him around before throwing him off the edge of the roof with a triumphant cry.

“Hah! Take that, yew motherfucker!” The Coon called out from the edge of the roof as Lightning Bolt fell straight down. The godling gathered every ounce of energy he had, channelling it into the soles of his feet as he forced electrical energy to propel him upwards; the result wasn’t entirely graceful as he struggled to hover, but it was enough to stop his fall.

The Coon laughed at Lightning Bolt’s flailing, but it left him unprepared for what happened next -- after a sharp, downward gesture on Lightning Bolt’s part, a streak of concentrated lightning came crashing down right at the edge of the rooftop. The attack completely missed the vigilante, but as soon as the edge of the rooftop began to crumble down into the street below, it became clear that he wasn’t the intended target.

“Are yew seriously?!” The Coon cried out as he became caught in the avalanche of falling debris, and the struggled to cling onto the crumbling edifice.  “Do yew really think that’s gonna stop me?! I’m just gonna kick your ass as soon as I get back up here!”  

“No… that clearly will not stop you…” Lightning Bolt’s breathing was laboured as he held up his hand again, and another bolt came crashing down on the edge of the adjoining building; as the rooftop began to crumble, he pointed a finger right at the superhero, the electrical charge directed at him just enough to make him lose his tenuous grip on the edge of the rooftop.

“... but this will.”

Lightning Bolt watched as The Coon went down with the rooftop, his desperate cries covered up by the sounds of falling debris. While it was clear he could withstand the fall, the side of the second building came crashing down into the alley into which he fell, burying the vigilante under the brick and mortar.

As the rumbling subsided, Lightning Bolt suddenly lurched in midair, and he barely managed to land on top of the debris that entombed The Coon before his power gave out entirely. His breathing was shallow as he stared at the mountain of rubble, his expression unreadable as he climbed down the side, his movements uncoordinated as he struggled to stay upright.

He’d managed to defeat him, yes… but he felt disgust welling up in the pit of his stomach as he looked at all of the damage he’d caused. One of the criticisms he’d had against the so-called superheroes was the excessive amount of destruction they caused to the town…

… yet here he was, standing next to the remains of two buildings to which he’d just caused substantial damage.

The sounds of approaching sirens told him that the police were near, which meant that the vigilantes were even closer. He would have to reflect on what he’d done elsewhere…

  
… and figure out how to become stronger so that this would never happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally don't post this stuff, but one of The Coon's lines before I edited it sounded vaguely Sailor Moon-ish, which made me change it... after I joked about "Sailor Coon".
>
>> Myrna on voice chat: "Does that mean Butters is Tuxedo Mask?"
> 
> Well, my lifemate decided to roll with it, and produced this:
> 
>   * <http://asked-a-stupid-question.tumblr.com/post/114184858525/this-is-what-happens-when-cas-writes-fic-and>
> 

> 
> I'm STILL crying about this I--


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Lightning Bolt having passed judgement on The Coon, the remaining superheroes and vigilantes of South Park gather to discuss their next move. But will their newest challenge come from Lightning Bolt himself, or from within their own ranks?

The next day dawned with the headlines that Craig expected -- “DEVASTATING COLLAPSE AT INNER CITY APARTMENT BLOCK - YET ANOTHER VIGILANTE SENT TO HOSPITAL!”.  He would have mused about how he had made it once more to the front page of the South Park Herald, but his heart wasn’t in it this morning.

His parents had hardly paid attention to the fact that the raven-haired teen was quiet during breakfast; after all, kids his age usually brooded about whatever latest thing was bothering them. In reality, however, the fight from the night before was replaying in his mind like a DVD on permanent loop, with a special focus on how he’d actually “won” the fight.

“Won” -- he couldn’t call it a definite victory, not with the damage he had caused. He had to admit to himself that there was no way he could have won in a completely fair fight against The Coon -- he had completely underestimated his abilities, having made assumptions based on his real-life identity. Craig’s abilities were of a nature that favoured ranged attacks, and he had found himself at a complete disadvantage when faced with The Coon’s physical attacks. Had things gone on the way they did, defeat would have been inevitable.

He wasn’t going to give the boisterous vigilante that satisfaction.

Still, the destruction he’d caused last night weighed on his mind; he had been adamant about making sure that he wouldn’t cause any further destruction to the town, but he’d gone and destroyed two buildings in order to beat The Coon. Granted, the buildings had been condemned, but he still felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach whenever he pictured the rooftop crumbling down into the alley below.

Had the means justified the end? He certainly felt it did…

… so why did he feel guilty about it?

A nudge from the pigtailed blonde next to him, along with a deliberate indication to the time on her phone, signalled that it was time for him to go to school. Craig glared at his sister, flipping her off in response, before he pushed his chair away from the table, his breakfast barely touched.

School would hopefully distract him from his moral dilemma.

 

* * *

 

The school day went by as usual, though the student body was buzzing with the news about the second vigilante attack. Wild rumours were flying around concerning the identity of the attacker -- was it a new supervillain? Were they a teen like the vigilantes, or was it an adult? Some were joking around that it was one of the teachers, but others were trying to guess that it was one of their own. Craig didn’t hear his name come up in conversation, and he felt relieved that he wasn’t bringing about suspicions -- it was the last thing he would have needed.

With that, he closed the door to his locker, the metallic squeak of the hinges evoking memories of the grinding of brick on metal as the rooftops came down. Craig groaned, resting his head against his locker as he closed his eyes to try and banish the memory.

“H-hey Craig…” Craig turned to find Tweek standing next to him, concern etched on his perpetually stressed expression. “Are you… agh!” The blond’s eye twitched before he scrunched his face, making a concerted effort to formulate his words. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t get much sleep.” It wasn’t a lie -- by the time he slipped back into his room, it was a little past 2:00 AM.

“O-okay… just t-that you haven’t been yourself lately…” Tweek tilted his head. “T-take care of yourself, okay? I-I-I don’t want you to become like me…”

Craig winced inwardly at the look that Tweek gave him, and he mentally berated himself for causing him so much concern. He smiled apologetically at the blond, his expression turning soft as he shook his head.

“I’ll be fine… I’m sorry for making you worry. Why don’t we go out for pizza later? My treat.”

“Okay… j-j-just as long as it’s the usual place. T-there’s no telling what the other places serve… What if… GAH! What if we get f-f-food poisoning and die, a-a-and...”

“Anything you want,” Craig interrupted as he tried to sound as reassuring as possible. Maybe that’s what he needed -- when he was around Tweek, all his concerns seemed to evaporate.

… as they should.

* * *

 

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”

Mysterion looked at the gathered superheroes, noting the absence of two of their own; while Toolshed had been well enough to attend the emergency meeting that he’d called, the masked vigilante had urged him to stay at home and rest. And with the most recent attack on The Coon… well, that was the whole purpose of the meeting.

The location had been hastily chosen, though it would serve their needs quite nicely. The Gold’s Gym on the outskirts of town had closed over eight months ago, the owner having run the business into the ground by using the profits to buy anabolic steroids to beef himself up. No one in the area seemed to want to take over the facility, however -- not a surprise given the general laziness of the townsfolk --  and the entire complex, exercise equipment included, lay fallow.

Despite the late hour -- 1:00 AM was well past when some of their numbers stopped patrolling for the night -- everyone seemed to be here: Mosquito and Tupperware were discussing amongst themselves, their voices resonating through their respective costumes despite their hushed tones.  The pair were an unlikely duo, but they worked well together: Tupperware was well-nigh indestructible with his polymer armour, a fact that Mosquito abused when he used his supersonic waves at the criminals they were trying to apprehend.

In a sharp contrast to the two, the Human Kite was sitting off to the side on a bench with his arms crossed, glaring at the convocation with a cold expression that betrayed his annoyance at having been called to the meeting.  Had Toolshed been there, he might have been in better spirits, but even Mysterion had to admit that the group seemed lacking without him and The Coon.

“Are we all here?” Mysterion asked in his customary gruff voice as he looked at the gathering. Tupperware and Mosquito immediately stopped talking, signs of affirmation coming from the pair, whereas Kite simply stared at Mysterion. The masked vigilante sighed at the quasi-tangible hostility from the teal-clad superhero, and he hoped that he wouldn’t cause too many problems tonight.

“As you know,” Mysterion began, “The Coon was attacked yesterday. I went to the hospital and he’s as fine as he can be given the damage he sustained, but it will take weeks before he’s back on his feet.” He narrowed his eyes at the other three, a note of disappointment in his voice. “I would have expected you all to have checked up on him, but I suppose that can’t be helped when our numbers are diminished.”

Kite shrugged, his expression unapologetic, his gaze never leaving the caped vigilante; Tupperware looked away at that, whereas Mosquito made a small, sad buzz before looking down.

“Bzzt, sorry... I didn’t know what I was gonna say…”

“It’s fine,” Mysterion dismissed with a wave -- he didn’t feel like hearing excuses. “From what he tells me, however… his attacker was the same one who attacked Toolshed two weeks ago.”

Mysterion watched as everyone seemed to perk up at those words; Kite’s fists clenched open and closed, making him wonder if he even realised what he was doing. Mosquito made a small noise of fear, and Tupperware simply shook his head, looking apologetic before he addressed the gathering.

“Yeah, but…” Tupperware said after a moment. “He told me he was going to go looking for him and challenge him. He said he could take him out better than any of us could.”

“Besides,” Kite added as he levelled his gaze at Mysterion, “One single attack doesn’t constitute a trend. It could be an isolated attack, after all.”

Mysterion narrowed his eyes at Kite, who had a small hint of a bitter smirk on his face. Was that how he’d play things?

Mysterion rose from his seat, approaching Kite with a cold glare. “Yes, I realise that I did say that when Toolshed was the one who got hurt… and I apologise for not taking your concerns seriously. But now that two of our own have been attacked, it’s difficult to ignore the coincidence--...”

“Bzzt, but The Coon is a jackass,” Mosquito interrupted. “I don’t really want to say this, bzzt… he probably had it coming, bzzt? There’s no telling what he actually said to him.”

“He’s right,” Tupperware agreed with a sigh. “It was easier to defend Toolshed, but now that The Coon provoked an attack, now we don’t know what Lightning Bolt’s motivations are. Would Toolshed have done anything to aggravate him?”

“No,” Kite said with a shake of his head. “He said that he barely said anything to Lightning Bolt… he kept giving examples about how he was ‘harming the town’, but Toolshed said he was trying to justify them… not that it helped anyways, what with the fact that he got ‘judged’ anyways.”

“Judged?” Mysterion repeated. “The Coon said that Bolt used that term, too.”

“Oh, but we can’t take that in consideration.” Kite said in a mild, dismissive tone as he leaned back against the wall. “It’s not a ‘trend’.”

“We don’t have time for your passive-aggressive bitterness, Kite,” Mysterion barked with a growl. “If we all work together to piece together the evidence…”

“Yeah, and you only suggest doing that after The Coon got hurt!” Kite countered as he rose from his seat in anger, his disguised voice cracking for a brief moment. “With Toolshed, everyone wrote it off as a random-ass attack, but now that The Coon gets his ass kicked, it all suddenly becomes important!”

“Kite, that’s not true, I--...”

“Well, fuck it!” Kite shouted, his angry outburst making Mosquito cringe. “I’m not going to work with anyone who clearly values some of us more than others, especially when the person’s a complete jackass! I’ll figure out what’s going on without your help!”

“Kite, get back here!” Mysterion watched as Kite rose from his seat and stalked out of the gym, a soft sigh escaping the vigilante’s lips as the door slammed shut.  He looked at Tupperware and Mosquito, who were looking back at him with varying degrees of concern.

“Well… that happened. Bzzt.” Mosquito said quietly even as the slam continued to echo throughout the building.

“Kite will cool off,” Tupperware said in a nervous but reassuring tone. “He always does… er, eventually.”

“Yes, well…” Mysterion sighed as he resisted rubbing his eyes. He had to admit that he hadn’t handled the hospital situation regarding Toolshed all that well, but Kite wasn’t giving him a chance to make up for it.

He’d figure it out later.

“What I was going to say…” Mysterion cleared his throat. “We should remain vigilant, given that Lightning Bolt has made it clear that he’s got a vendetta against us. Tupperware and Mosquito, you two are used to working together, so I want you to pair up together while on your nightly patrols. Contact myself or Kite if you run into Lightning Bolt, and stall for time -- I have a feeling that the only way we’ll beat him is by teaming up together.”

“What about you?” Tupperware asked. “That puts you with The Human Kite, and…”

“I’ll talk to him,” Mysterion shook his head as he imagined for a moment how well that conversation would go. … it would be easier to work alone. “Teamwork is key, now more than ever.”

“Hey, but we should use this place as a base, bzzt.” Mosquito looked around the main room of the gym. “I bet Toolshed could get the power going here again, and we can set up our laptops so we can track Lightning Bolt together.”

“Hmm.” Mysterion looked around, considering the sonic superhero’s words; he’d never thought they would have needed a base, given how independent they all acted. However, given the situation, the idea was growing on him.  “It’s something to consider,” he said, keeping his tone neutral so it didn’t seem like he was committing to it. “In any case, you’re both dismissed.”

Once Tupperware and Mosquito were gone, Mysterion allowed himself to relax, his gruff, emotionless demeanour fading into irritation as he pulled out his phone out from a pocket of his utility belt. He and Kite had been at odds for quite some time, their general attitudes over the best way to protect South Park meshing together like oil and water; whereas Kite preferred the cautious, strategic approach, he much preferred charging in and taking out the trash before it festered. It usually resulted in much more carnage on his part -- both on the giving and receiving sides -- but it worked.

With nothing else to do, Mysterion left the building, Mosquito’s proposal of turning it into their base running through his mind as he walked across town.  He was almost at the police station when his cell chirped urgently, Tupperware’s number appearing on the call display when he pulled it out to look at it.

“... hello?” Mysterion answered, a sudden feeling of dread welling up in his chest.

“Mysterion!” Tupperware’s voice was filled with panic -- an emotion that wasn’t like the level-headed superhero -- and he could hear Mosquito sobbing in the background. “Lightning Bolt ambushed us! We need backup, he’s much too strong for us, and w-... AHHHHHHH!”

Mysterion winced as Tupperware’s yell, echoed by Mosquito’ shrill cry, blasted through the speaker, and he could hear the repeating sound of a bolt of lightning striking through both the earpiece and back in the direction he’d come. There was a loud clatter -- the cell phone hitting the ground, he surmised --  and then silence… until he heard the sound of footsteps on gravel, and the grating sound of glass on rock as the phone was picked up.

“They have been judged,” a hollow, emotionless voice announced. “Prepare yourself, Mysterion -- your day of reckoning approaches.”

Before Mysterion could say anything, a small beep sounded, indicating the call had been disconnected.  With a curse, the masked vigilante started running as fast as he could back the way he came… he only hoped that he wasn’t too late to save them.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only Mysterion and The Human Kite remaining, things look dire indeed for the vigilantes of South Park, especially when Lightning Bolt attempts to augment his powers by harnessing electricity from a derelict power plant. Can the two vigilantes settle their differences before it's too late? And will they find an unexpected ally amidst all the chaos?

While Craig would normally have had to endure chatter about even more superheroes being taken down by a mysterious supervillain, he was thankful that he didn’t have to hear it at school. Spring break was a welcome respite from his classes, especially since his heart really wasn’t into it this semester. His training, as well as the fights he’d gotten into with the vigilantes, had taken a toll on both his schoolwork and his sleep schedule; he’d been caught napping in class on more than one occasion, and while detention wouldn’t have been an issue in the past, he felt like he now needed all the time he could get.

Still, he could make time to see Tweek -- he’d be working every day during the entire break while his parents went vacationing someplace warm. He pulled the door open, the familiar chime ringing as he entered Tweek Bros., and he made a beeline for the counter.

“Hey Tweek,”  Craig greeted as he walked up to the counter; though there was a steady stream of customers, it wasn’t so busy that Tweek wouldn’t have a chance to say a few words to him. Tweek smiled as he didn’t even bother ringing up the hot chocolate that Craig always seemed to get, and he busied himself with the preparation of his beverage.

“Looks like the repairs are almost complete,” the raven-haired teen commented as he looked around; there was already a new front window, and apart from some much-needed drywall work and a fresh coat of paint, it hardly showed that two superheroes had had a fight here.

“Y-yeah… I-I can’t wait until they’re done, though… AGH!” Tweek winced as some of the milk spilled out of the pitcher as he jerked the steamer, and he looked like he was struggling to keep the whole thing steady. Craig gave a small, reassuring smile, and he could see Tweek redden a little as he continued his work, though it was hard to tell whether the flush was from embarrassment or from his actions. “I-it’s hard to work when there’s a b-b-bunch of strange people doing w-weird stuff to the place.”

“It’ll be over soon,” Craig said softly, and he watched as Tweek carefully poured the steamed milk into a cup that had an unhealthy amount of chocolate syrup poured into it. “There won’t be anymore strange people fixing up the damage caused by a bunch of freaks fighting in front of your shop.”

“Yeah, but… did you hear about the guy who’s taking out all the vigilantes?” Tweek took out the canister of whipped cream, holding the heavy steel cylinder in both hands as he looked at Craig with an expression of concern. “A-all the c-c-customers are talking about it… t-that… GAH!” Tweek squeezed the canister tight before continuing. “T-that he’s destroying all the superheroes in town…”

“They’re not superheroes, Tweek,” Craig said with a sigh as he leaned against the counter. “Heroes help… these freaks were just causing trouble.” He shook his head as he took one of the coffee stir sticks out of the cup in front of him. “Trust me, it’d be better if they all left town and let the police do their job for once.”

“T-that’s not true!” Tweek shouted, the canister flying out of his hands at the outburst; it landed with a clatter at the other end of the counter, and as all eyes turned to the blond, Craig thought for sure he’d have an anxiety attack on the spot for the scene he’d just caused.

“Tweek, it’s okay… just… just take a few deep breaths.” What was the term he’d used in grade school… finding his centre?

Craig turned and shot a collective glare at everyone who happened to be staring at the scene, and after everyone went back whatever they’d been doing, Craig sighed and turned his attention back to Tweek, who was somehow managing to calm down without having to be brought outside.

“I-I’m… I’m okay…” Tweek took a few calming breaths, and he went back to retrieve the canister of whipping cream, which had by some miracle not cracked open from the impact. “I-I’m sorry, Craig… it’s just… if that Bolt guy can take out the other superheroes…” Tweek closed his eyes as his twitch returned to his left eye, and he took a moment to cover it with his hand before continuing. “T-then what does it mean for people like us? Who’s going to take care of us?”

“Do you _really_ think they’re protecting us?” Craig asked angrily as he tried to keep his temper in check.  “They almost destroyed the shop with their stupidass fight!”

“T-the store was going to _blow up_!” Tweek countered, and it was Craig’s turn to look at Tweek with an expression of surprise. “T-The Coon had come in here a f-f-f-few days before… wanted a bunch of hot chocolates and pastries for free…” Tweek took a deep, steadying breath before shaking up the canister once more and putting whipped cream on Craig’s now-lukewarm hot chocolate. “S-said he needed them so he could protect the city better. I-I c-couldn’t give him that much free stuff, s-so I said no… and then I found out after the fight that he planted a b-b-b-bunch of bombs and was gonna b-b-blow the roof off…”

Tweek made a small, panicked sound as he put the canister down, and he pushed the drink towards Craig even as he struggled to calm himself. “I-If Mysterion hadn’t found out about the p-p-plan and stopped him, t-there’s no telling where I’d be n-now… Bolt might have g-good intentions with taking out the superheroes, b-but… h-he’s going about it the wrong way…”

Craig stared at Tweek, his expression unreadable as the blond looked at him with worry and confusion. He took the drink and abruptly turned away, walking out of store with quick strides.

How could he say that to him? How could he say that he wasn’t doing the right thing?

It felt as if he’d just been slapped in the face, but he didn’t have any physical marks to show for it.

 

* * *

_Stronger…_

He needed to get stronger.

Craig tossed and turned, his blankets entangling themselves around him as he tossed and turned in his sleep. The constricting sensation did nothing to help him break out of the nightmare that was quickly encroaching around his psyche, and soon, he was completely pulled into the mental manifestations of everything that had been troubling him over the last few days.

His encounter with Toolshed replayed like a video in his mind, his mind highlighting every single insecurity he had; the telekinetic had been his first target, and he had lingering doubts that he was able to pull this off. However, in this version of the encounter, Toolshed was not scared of him at all… in fact, he’d _laughed_ as he’d delivered his judgement to him, easily dodging the call of lightning. He screamed in agony as he was pierced by a score of nails from the vigilante’s nail guns, and the look he was giving him was one of disdain as he laughed at him.

He had to get stronger…

As he struggled to pull the nails out of his bruised and battered body, the scene shifted to that of the rooftop fight with The Coon, and only by throwing himself to the ground and rolling away did he avoid getting body-slammed by the corpulent vigilante. The mocking, derisive cackling from his aggressor echoed in his mind, slicing into him as if it were a tangible weapon.  It was like a game of cat and mouse, except in his manifestation of the fight, _he_ was the prey; he was sliced to ribbons by The Coon’s sharp claws, and his cries for mercy were met with jeering and mockery.

_I’m too weak… I have to get stronger…_

Lightning Bolt squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to anyone who was watching over him that his death would be swift; however, the blow didn’t come, and though The Coon and Toolshed’s laughter persisted, he opened his eyes to see Tweek staring at him.

“Tweek… I…”

It felt like glass shards were slicing into his vocal chords, making his words get caught in his throat. Tweek shook his head, his typical crazed, panicked look replaced with one of sadness and disappointment. He didn’t say anything, but it seemed to Craig like his silence was speaking volumes.

_I’m not strong enough…_

“Please… Tweek… you have to listen to me… I’ve… I’ve been doing all this for you… I didn’t want any of those freaks to bully you ever again… you understand, right? It’s… it’s because I…”

Tweek shook his head again, and the rejection -- reflected in both his eyes and his actions -- struck Craig like he’d been physically slapped. He widened his eyes, hoping and praying that his senses were misreading his actions… but then Tweek turned on his heel, his back turned to him as he began to walk away from him.

“Tweek… Tweek, no!”

Craig reached out to Tweek, falling forward as he tried in vain to reach out to the blond. “Tweek… you have to believe me! This is all for your sake! No one is ever going to scare you anymore!”

The laughter became louder, joined in by Mosquito’s and Tupperware’s, as Craig felt tears roll down his face, the saltiness burning his scratched-up, battered face. His gold mask melted away from his face, dribbling into a pool of slag in front of him before evaporating away like all the ambitions he’d had. The threads of his poncho unravelled themselves, dissolving into dust that blew away into the aether, leaving only himself… a poor, pathetic, defenseless teenager.

“Tweek, please, don’t leave me! Please, I need you! We need each other! Please…”

Tweek paused as he stood at the edge of the darkness, and Craig looked in horror as two figures stepped out from within: both the Human Kite and Mysterion were there to greet the blond, and Craig’s tearful begging turned into a wail as he watched Tweek take their hands, vanishing into the darkness with them. Craig collapsed, sobbing brokenly as he curled up against himself, the pain in his heart threatening to make it burst.

“ **TWEEK!** ”

Craig awoke with a start, and he sat up ramrod straight as he looked around in a panicked daze; this was his bedroom. He was in bed.

It was all a dream.

The red LCD display of his alarm clock turned to 3:27 AM, and the raven-haired teen stared at it for several moments as he willed his adrenaline rush he was feeling to go away. He laid back down, his head hitting his sweat-soaked pillow, and he stared at the ceiling as he felt his heart pound hard. The dream felt so real… but it wasn’t. It wasn’t real. He still had Tweek, and he could still protect him from those so-called superheroes.

But to be able to do that… he had to get stronger.

 

* * *

 

The moon was high in the sky when Lightning Bolt arrived at the storage complex. The gate had been electronically shut, but it wasn’t a challenge for him to overload the circuit and make it admit him. After closing it behind him -- a precaution for the task at hand, more than anything -- he made his way deeper into the winding labyrinth of storage units.

Why a supervillain, even a minor one, would choose something like this to make his base of operations was beyond him: even the largest of units were claustrophobic, and he questioned how anyone could even think in such an environment. And was there even any power going into them?

Just as he wished for a sign that would indicate which unit was the one he was looking for, he came across several things at once: there was a large, black cable running across the middle of the lot, snaking its way under the corrugated metal door of one of the units. Furthermore, there was a faint bluish glow under the gap in the door, as well as the tell-tale chugging of a generator. Perhaps the most telling indicator that he’d found the right place was the fact that there was a giant sign above the door, written in what looked like a combination of sharpies and pink glitter, that said, “WELCOME TO PROFESSOR CHAOS’ LAIR”

Lightning Bolt stared at the scene before him, his expression neutral for a moment before he winced, bringing his palm to his forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed.

“... really, Chaos?” he muttered under his breath as the whole thing threatened to give him a headache. “ _Really_?”

Approaching the storage unit, Lightning Bolt heard the sounds of television coming from within -- however, as soon as he got roughly five feet from the storage unit, the sounds and lights abruptly cut off, and there was an unnatural silence surrounding the area.

Undeterred by the sudden change, he stepped up to the corrugated metal door, his leather-clad glove rapping on it loudly. There was a distinct silence before a hesitant voice called out.

“Uh… there’s nobody home!”

“Open the door, Chaos,” Lightning Bolt said with a groan as he knocked again. “I seek an audience with you.”

“A-an audience?” the voice asked. “I-is there a game show out there or something?”

“Just open the door, Chaos, before I force it open it myself.”

The storage unit shuddered as the door was pulled open, the sound of a garage door opener grinding from within as it crawled upwards.  Lightning Bolt waited until the door was finished opening before stepping inside --  no sense lowering himself if he was supposed to play the part of a god -- and as soon as he crossed the threshold, the door began its descent once more.

In the dim light of the interior of the storage unit, it was hard to tell whether this was a secret base or a pile of junk. However, the fact that the junk seemed _powered_ told him he was in the right place: bright LEDs indicated the presence of computer systems, as well as the glare of monitors in the back of the room. The hum of a ceiling fan could be seen as a distraction, but it was absolutely necessary in a place like this -- it was suffocating enough as it is.

Tarps and old bed sheets covered up various pieces of furniture, which had been shoved up against the edges of the unit, leaving the middle open for a large, fold-out table which was covered in snacks and soda. A large, well-maintained cage sat on the edge of it, and  Lightning Bolt’s gaze couldn’t help but linger on the two hamsters that were happily running around inside; he had to admit that while Professor Chaos seemed like a complete idiot, he at least knew how to take care of his pets.

Before Lightning Bolt could take another step, however, a spotlight suddenly lit up the back of the room, and a figure, his body obscured by an olive green cape, stood below it.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Lightning Bolt!” a thin, reedy voice called out with a distinct Southern twang. “You’ve fallen in the trap of **Professor Chaos**! Ahhhhahahaha!”

Professor Chaos pulled back the cape, and he continued to laugh maniacally as he faced Lightning Bolt, who simply stared at him emotionlessly. The blond continued laughing until it became painfully obvious that he wasn’t intimidating his visitor, and his laughter died in his throat as he shifted uncomfortably under the godlike supervillain’s gaze.

“What… t-that wasn’t good? I-if you go out ‘n come back in, I’m sure I can do better--...”

“It’s fine, Chaos.” Bolt said with a sigh, his resigned sigh echoing through his mask. “I understood what you meant.”

“Oh, okay.” Professor Chaos reached over to the keyboard of one of the computers in the room, and the rest of the lights illuminated the storage space. Clad in a green sleeveless shirt and wearing a helmet that looked like the was covered in tin foil, the professor looked somewhat intimidating at first… but that illusion dissipated with his sweet country twang and gentle demeanour. He was South Park’s only declared supervillain, but he honestly wasn’t much of a threat, his brand of chaos involving changing the timings on traffic lights and putting salt in soup.

“So uh… what brings you here?” Professor Chaos asked as he made his way to the table, taking two red plastic cups and pouring from the bottle of Sprite that was sitting nearby. “I-I didn’t think that the great and powerful Lightning Bolt would want anything to do with any of the other supervillains in South Park.”

“Your powers of observation are astute, indeed,” he said as he watched the glasses being poured, wondering if Chaos realised that with the mask on, he couldn’t actually drink what was being offered. Had that been intentional?  “Certainly, it’s a valuable quality to have in your position.” Lightning Bolt narrowed his eyes, then, as he looked at Professor Chaos close.  “I’m curious, however… how did you come to recognise my existence?”

“Uh, well, Eric…” Professor Chaos paused as he realised his slip-up. “Er, I-I mean, I heard what had happened to The Coon, and the other superheroes, too. I just never thought you’d come here to join forces with me.”

“Join forces?” Lightning Bolt repeated. He was joking, right?  “I’m afraid that I work alone, Professor… however, I do admit that I require your assistance."

"My... my assistance?!" Professor Chaos all but squeaked at Lightning Bolt's words, and when he offered the red plastic cup to the taller man, his foil-clad hands were somewhat shaking.

"Indeed," Lightning Bolt said, a small smirk visible from the visible half of his lips. "You see, I crave _power_ , Chaos... power to take down those who threaten South Park. And what better way to achieve that than to create it yourself?" After a quick glance around the room, Lightning Bolt put down the cup and walked over to a large map of the city that was tacked onto a corkboard at the far end of the room. "The old power plant was shut down twenty years ago, but the generators are still there." He pointed at a building located at the edge of town with a gloved hand, one that was far away from all the current residential areas. "With the equipment inside that building, I can obtain a significant increase of power... but for that, I need to gain access to the building, which is protected by an electronic lock."

“An electronic lock, huh…” Professor Chaos took a wet, sloppy gulp of his soda, wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm. “That sure is a really tall order… so, uh, what would be in it for me?”

“Simple: I’m aware of your... “ Lightning Bolt paused as he looked at Professor Chaos with an air of contempt. “... ‘meagre’ proficiency with electrical attacks.  This would be your opportunity to strengthen them as well. A fair trade for your assistance, would it not?”

“Really?” Professor Chaos widened his eyes. “You’d… you’d do that? Gosh, I don’t even know what to say...”

Lightning Bolt didn’t reply to that as he turned once more to the map. With Chaos’ electronics knowledge, they could probably manufacture some kind of code breaker device that could let him gain access to the building.

His musings were interrupted by a red LED flashed in the corner of Lightning Bolt’s good eye, and he frowned as he turned towards the source. Though the computer next to him was off, there was a constant red LED flashing on a small device, and it looked somewhat like… a microphone?

Lightning Bolt quickly reached for the monitor’s power switch even as Professor Chaos shouted a warning, and he ignored it as the display flared to life. There was a generic sound recording program on screen, and the curves of an active audio recording scrolled across the screen, a small “REC” symbol flashing in time to the LED on the microphone.

The sound of distortion and static echoed through the various speakers in the room as a sphere of electrical energy formed in the palm of Lightning Bolt’s hand, and the table the computer sat on exploded into a shower of metal and plastics as his concentrated electricity struck home.  He turned to Professor Chaos, his visible eye flaring with azure sparks as he glared hatefully at him.

“What have you **done**?!”

For a brief moment, Professor Chaos looked like he was going to faint out of panic or fear… but after a quick, steadying breath, he drew himself up, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave a stern look at the supervillain.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing to the other superheroes?” Professor Chaos asked as his eyes darted to his roster of “mortal enemies”; out of all the pictures of the vigilantes, only two weren’t crossed out -- The Human Kite and Mysterion. “The Coon, Toolshed, Tupperware, a-and Mosquito… why, you hurt them real bad… almost killed them, even! And for what, huh? So you can prove that you’re better than them?” Professor Chaos shook his head before continuing. “Well, that’s a load of crap and you know it, mister, ‘cause they’re at least helping the town, a-and not making everyone scared to poke their noses outside!”

Professor Chaos paused, catching his breath before looking up at him. “With the way you’re acting with your judgements and retribution stuff, I’d say that even The Coon is a better hero than the likes of you.”

A sharp cry of pain echoed against the metal walls of the storage unit as a quick but powerful bolt of lightning flew into Professor Chaos, knocking him clear across the room and into a pile of boxes against the wall. Before he could even get up, he felt a constricting pressure around his neck as he was forcibly lifted by the collar until he was face-to-face with the angry supervillain, his furious gaze accented by the lightning sparking in his eyes.

“I judge you to be a **traitor** , Professor Chaos,” Lightning Bolt intoned in a dispassionate voice as electricity crackled around his clenched fist. The blond tugged at his aggressor’s wrists in vain as he gasped for air, and he seized violently before slumping when the electrical charge robbed him of his consciousness.

Lightning Bolt looked at the two-bit supervillain in disgust as he threw him back down on the floor, the unconscious teen’s body crumpling like that of a ragdoll.  His mind raced as he considered his next move; it was too early to act now, but given the situation… he wasn’t being given a choice.

 

* * *

  


From his vantage point on the rooftop of South Park Mall, Mysterion was able to get a bird’s eye view of the layout of the town.  Though the town was usually quiet at this time of night, it was unnaturally so, as if even the petty criminals were afraid to step out into the open.

After having accompanied the paramedics as they transported Mosquito and Tupperware to the hospital, Mysterion had attempted to get in touch with The Human Kite. However, his texts remained unanswered, and all his calls went straight to voicemail, making it clear that the other vigilante wasn’t interested in talking. The only silver lining was the fact that The Coon had already somehow checked himself out of the hospital; Mysterion was aware of the acerbic vigilante’s resilience, but it was astounding that he’d managed to survive having four tonnes of brick and concrete fall onto him, let alone be able to walk away from it a few days later.

As he surveyed the town, one thing was becoming clear: Lightning Bolt was winning. There were only two vigilantes left in town, and they were as compatible as oil and water; had counted on their animosity to make them easy targets? Or did he have another motivation in mind when selecting his targets?

The lack of answers frustrated him more than he liked to admit, and though his eyes were on the town, his mind was elsewhere.  Though he usually worked alone, the lack of potential support put him at an extreme disadvantage, and he wished for a moment that he’d taken the time to prepare for the eventuality that their independence could cause their downfall.

Of course, that was all hindsight… and reflecting on it wouldn’t help the situation at hand… especially when he had no idea what Lightning Bolt’s motivations were, apart from “destroy all the superheroes of South Park”.

His phone buzzed in four quick successions, and Mysterion sighed as he pulled out his phone. What did Professor Chaos want this time? It wasn’t uncommon for him to visit his hideout to watch TV, or to escort him home after foiling one of his dastardly plans. He didn’t have the head to do either tonight, however, and he was mentally composing his reply before he even saw the message.

Once he saw it, however… it was clear that it was not a usual text message:
    
    
              » Good evening, Mysterion.
              » This is Lightning Bolt.
              » You may be wondering how I came into the possession of Professor Chaos’ phone.
              » I invite you to view this image for the answer.

A picture message came through, and Mysterion inhaled sharply as he saw the image appear on his screen; Professor Chaos, his head hanging low, was tied with broken cabling to the top of an electrical pole, his arms draped over the thick wires like a broken scarecrow. Even more concerning were the sparks that got caught as the picture was taken… was that wiring _live_?

The persistent buzz continued as Mysterion stared at the image, and he went back to the text message screen to find more messages waiting for him.
    
    
              » We are at in the parking lot of the bus depot.
              » He shall receive his final judgement at midnight.
              » I expect to see you there.

Mysterion checked the time on his phone -- 11:34 PM. He immediately leapt off the rooftop, using the awning of the Starbucks below him to lessen his fall, and he broke into a sprint as he hurried to the bus depot. Even though they were sworn enemies, there was no way in hell he was going to let Lightning Bolt deliver his “judgement” to Professor Chaos… and this was his opportunity to end his reign of terror once and for all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock ticks down for Professor Chaos' judgement at the hands of Lightning Bolt... can Mysterion reach him before it's too late? And can Mysterion and The Human Kite settle their differences before lightning strikes next?

When Mysterion arrived at the bus station, his phone had just turned to 11:56 PM; he was cutting it close, especially since the timing ensured that he wasn’t going to be able to scope the area before having to confront Lightning Bolt.

The supervillain hadn’t bothered hiding his actions, however; the place where he’d strung up Professor Chaos was out in the open in one of the best-lit parts of the bus depot, and if the incident had happened but an hour earlier, the place would have been packed with the media and other random gawkers who wanted to see what was happening. The blond, drooping like a broken scarecrow against his bonds, seemed unconscious, though Mysterion could still see the sparking from the live wires that bound him.

As for Lightning Bolt himself, he stood atop the transformer that was bolted to the top of the pole, his arms crossed and his stature proud as he looked down at the caped vigilante.

“I bid you welcome, Mysterion, to the hour of judgement,” he called out in a hollow voice as one of the wires sparked, making the bound teen twitch unconsciously.

“Let him go, Bolt!” Mysterion called out. “He’s an innocent bystander in all this… it’s us you want, right?”

“He is guilty of treason, Mysterion, and for that, he shall be judged.” Lightning Bolt paused, and Mysterion could see a hint of a cruel smirk from the corner of his lips before he spoke again. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“... Unless you wish to take his place as a sacrifice.” Lightning Bolt looked between Mysterion and Professor Chaos, and he nodded after a moment of consideration.  “Yes, that would be an acceptable exchange, Mysterion: offer yourself as a sacrifice to the gods, and I shall release Professor Chaos.”

Mysterion gritted his teeth as his listened to Lightning Bolt; the thought had occurred to him that he could just simply give himself up and let the supervillain kill him, but there was absolutely no guarantee that Professor Chaos would come out alive, even if he took him at his word. Had Lightning Bolt actually planned for that eventuality? It would be ironic if this was the only person in South Park who took his powers at face value…

“No deal, Bolt,” he replied with a shake of his head. “This is your last warning: release Professor Chaos.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, Mysterion.” Lightning Bolt glanced at the moon, and he looked down at Professor Chaos, who was moaning softly in his half-conscious state. “His time is up. The moment of judgement is at hand.”

Mysterion looked up as thunder rumbled overhead, and he watched as clouds gathered together, forming a weather system above the pair. He hissed under his breath as he pulled his grappling hook from his belt, and he barely aimed it as he shot it towards the lines above. His target wasn’t Lightning Bolt, however, but rather the transformer he was standing on; the supervillain still dodged instinctively, hovering above his captive as Mysterion pulled the transformer — and the pole to which it was bolted — down, sparks flying from the hook’s contact with the metal.

Professor Chaos opened his eyes as he felt himself lurch forward, and he could barely whimper as he saw the ground coming closer, his fall repeatedly halted by the tension in the wires that held the pole back before snapping. As the structure fell, Mysterion reversed the pull of the grappling hook, sending him flying upwards towards Professor Chaos, and the wires snapped in a shower of sparks as he pulled the teen off the pole, vaulting off it with a powerful kick before it came crashing down in a shower of wood, metal and concrete on the pavement below.

Lightning Bolt narrowed his eyes at the carnage below, and he willed himself to stay aloft as debris rose into the sky. Was the vigilante alive? Had Professor Chaos been crushed? It was impossible to tell with the dust in the air, all of which was being refracted by the huge spotlights in the area.

When the dust finally settled, Mysterion stood on the ground, surrounded by sparking wires and splintered wood, looking up in defiance at Lightning Bolt; Professor Chaos’ body was limp in the vigilante’s arms, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest proved that he was still somewhat amongst the living.

Without a word, Mysterion laid the blond down, the back of his gloved hand brushing dust off his face with a gentle gesture as he looked at him with a neutral expression. He straightened up, then, before facing Lightning Bolt, who landed on top of the sparking transformer.

“Now that there’s no ‘judgement’ involved, we can talk like _reasonable_ beings,”  Mysterion said, his voice tinged with annoyance as his opponent landed close by. “Why are you doing this?”

“Ah, did your colleagues not explain it to you?” Lightning Bolt asked, his hollow voice showing a hint of amusement in its tone. “Or were they too injured to tell you adequately?” The godling looked down at Mysterion, his demeanour making it clear that he thought very little of the vigilante before him. “I am Lightning Bolt. I am one who watches over South Park and delivers judgement against those to seek to harm the town.”

“Then why are you going after the superheroes?” Mysterion asked. “It seems to me that we have a common goal.”

“We do, Mysterion… however, the way you and your cohorts choose to protect the city is…” He paused as he considered his words. “... counterintuitive.” He crossed his arms as he glared hatefully at the vigilante. “You do not hesitate to destroy in order to capture even the most petty of villains… you put citizens in harm’s way in order to achieve your desires. I judge that to be a crime in itself, Mysterion, and for that, you must all be punished.”

Mysterion stared at Lightning Bolt before shaking his head. “It’s not like we try to target innocent people, Bolt. Sometimes, however, there are some who get caught in the crossfire — it’s unfortunate, but these things happen.”

“And this is why out of all the so-called heroes of South Park, you are the one who carries the most sin. Listen to yourself, Mysterion: you are completely unrepentant. Do you think of what you’ve done to those who have been caught in your ‘unfortunate’ crossfires? Do you think of the damage you’ve done to their livelihoods?” Bolt’s tone turned more menacing, then, as sparks gathered in his clenched fists. “Do you even think of how you come across to those who actually trusted you to defend them?”

Mysterion narrowed his eyes as one part of the puzzle clicked. “It’s clear you have a grudge against me, Lightning Bolt. If it’s me you’re after, then take it up with me — don’t involve anyone else. You’re the one talking about not wanting to catch innocent bystanders in the crossfire… but don’t you realise that that’s exactly what you’re doing? Toolshed, The Coon, Mosquito, and Token… they did nothing to incur your wrath, did they? You only targeted them because they take up the same mantle as I do.” Mysterion gestured to himself.  “If it’s a fight you want, Lightning Bolt, then fight **me**! Leave everyone else out of this!”

“ **SILENCE!** ” Lightning Bolt called out, the angry tone in his voice conveying emotion that was completely unlike the deadpan, neutral tone he was affecting until now. “I judge you to be the **root cause** of that which ails South Park, and for that, you shall be judged!”

Lightning Bolt cried out in rage as he hurled the energy that he’d been charging up straight at Mysterion, who dodged them fluidly as he pulled out a trio of pellets out of his utility belt, hurling them at the supervillain; a plume of smoke erupted from each of them on impact, and soon the entire area was blanketed in smoke and fog as Mysterion rushed in. Without the ability to see his surroundings, all Lightning Bolt could do was discharge a burst of electricity as he heard Mysterion approach, blocking the vigilante’s punch and sending him flying backwards.

Undeterred, he pulled out a pistol from his belt and fired into the smoke as he heard Lightning Bolt run to get away from the smoke bomb. The rubber bullets had two purposes here: not only did they serve to hit Lightning Bolt without actually shooting clear through him, but they could also pierce through his electrostatic shield due to their nature.  As the smoke finally began to dissipate, Mysterion could see Lightning Bolt recoil from the shots, but he watched as the supervillain raised his hands, a sudden strike of lightning crashing down right next to Mysterion, the violent impact throwing him back towards where he’d left Professor Chaos.

Professor Chaos… he was a liability here, and a big one at that — without any ability to defend himself, he could get caught in the crossfire. Despite the burn wounds from the lightning strike, Mysterion scrambled to his feet and dashed towards one of the parking garages, hoping to either lose Lightning Bolt or lure him away from the scene.

“Get back here!” Lightning Bolt called out as he dashed towards Mysterion; it seemed at first that Mysterion was the quicker one, but he was suddenly tackled from behind by the angry supervillain. Mysterion cried out as a lightning-charged punch hit him square in the back of his head, and he struggled to flip Lightning Bolt over as he suffered blow after blow, his teeth clenching as he finally wriggled out of his hold enough to land a solid punch to his face…

… which sent Lightning Bolt’s mask flying to the side, the metal face covering clattering uselessly a few feet away.

Mysterion stared in confusion as he looked at the now-exposed supervillain, the puzzle in his mind finally clicking into place. Now he knew why he was hell-bent on vengeance. Everything made so much sense for the first time during this entire ordeal.

“... Craig Tucker,” Mysterion stated. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement. “So you were Lightning Bolt all along…”

Craig stared at Mysterion as he brought a hand to his face, the shock at being unmasked superseding the blow he’d received. He immediately got off Mysterion, and after shooting him a quick glare, he bolted away, only slowing to pick up his discarded mask.

“Craig, wait!” Mysterion called out, but his effort was in vain. Soon, he was alone in the parking lot. He rose to his feet, ignoring the pain wracking his body as he stared in the direction the supervillain had ran; with Professor Chaos injured, there wasn’t any time to pursue.

He’d have to think matters through himself… and figure out how to get Craig to let go of his grudge.

 

* * *

 

“Uhnnn… where am I?”

Professor Chaos blinked and raised his hands against the glaring bright fluorescents over him; he would have yelped at the sight of the IV stuck in his arm, but the breathing tube down his throat prevented him from doing just that.

He tried to shift in his bed, but everything hurt more than he liked, which made him decide to stay put. He looked around, once his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he found he was in a hospital room.

Oh, right… it was because of Lightning Bolt. He vaguely remembered Mysterion fighting him, but the rest was a complete blank to him… did he win? Did he lose?

He’d gotten himself in a really big pickle, hadn’t he?

“Well, look who’s back to the land of the living,” a gruff voice called from the entrance of the room, and Professor Chaos blinked in confusion at the surly-looking doctor. “The way this is going, I think I’m going to end up with all of you brats in my ward.” The doctor sighed as he checked the vitals on the equipment by the bedside. “You actually got beat up more than the others, so I don’t know whether it’s because he went hard on you, or because you’re a wuss.”

“That’s enough, doctor,” a familiar voice called out from behind the doctor, and Professor Chaos couldn’t hide the look of relief he had at seeing to whom it belonged. “How is he doing?”

“He’ll be here a while, unlike the fatso,” the doctor grunted as he made a few notes on Professor Chaos’ chart. “Once he’s better, though, he’ll likely be transferred to the prison hospital so they can—...”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, doctor.” Mysterion interrupted, his tone firm. “Professor Chaos was an innocent bystander in all this. He had no intention of helping Lightning Bolt whatsoever.”

“You’re going to have to explain that to the cops, kid.” The doctor countered with a shrug.  “They’re the ones chomping at the bit to make an arrest in this case.”

“If they arrest him, it’d be for completely the wrong reasons.” Mysterion sighed inwardly at the thought of the town making Professor Chaos a scapegoat, and he looked between the doctor and Professor Chaos, the latter whose eyes were wide with worry and fear. “He’s free to go as soon as he’s recovered. I **insist**.”

“Whatever, kid.” The doctor shrugged as he dropped the chart back in the holder. “It’s not my problem.”

The doctor called a nurse to assist him with his examination of Professor Chaos, and Mysterion was relieved to find out that he was able to breathe on his own. After noting Professor Chaos’ request for jello for his sore throat, the staff vacated the room, leaving the supervillain and the vigilante to their own devices.

“How are you feeling, Chaos?” Mysterion asked as he sat in the chair next to him with a resigned sigh; he hated hospitals to begin with, and his distaste for them had multiplied exponentially now that he’d had so many friends coming here.

“Aw, Mysterion, you don’t hafta keep up the act with me…” Professor Chaos said with a weary smile as he laid back down. “I think I’m a lil’ too woozy to be all villainy and stuff anyways…”

“It’s not an act,” Mysterion said with a sigh. “What happened that made Lightning Bolt attack you?”

“Well, uh…” Professor Chaos’ face scrunched up as he tried to remember, and his eyes lit up before he sat up, his expression shifting to the sunny smile that he usually wore. “Well, he was gonna ask me to help him with something… but Ken… er, Mysterion — there’s something you gotta hear!”

Professor Chaos reached for his phone, which had been left on his bedside table — it looked a little worse for wear, but it was nothing a few stickers couldn’t cover up. The blond waded through a number of menus before handing the phone over to Mysterion, and he looked pleased as punch as he explained.

“See, I was prepared in case he showed up… I figured he might, seeing as you and The Human Kite were the only ones left. I-I know I’m not that strong or smart, but I didn’t want to be caught off-guard, y’know? Well, he did show up… and I recorded the whole conversation!” Professor Chaos sighed, then, as he fidgeted with the hem of his sheets. “He found out, though, and he blew up the computer… but I was saving to that online drop thing, and the recording survived!”

“And then he blew _you_ up.” Mysterion sighed as he looked at the file. “You took a big risk doing that, Chaos… you could have gotten killed.”

“Yeah, I know… and I was really scared an’ stuff. B-But if he takes out all the superheroes in South Park, then who’s gonna foil all my dastardly plans?” The blond smiled sadly at Mysterion before continuing. “I don’t wanna see you guys get hurt…”

Mysterion sighed at Professor Chaos’ words, and he felt for a moment that his heart was going to explode; he knew that Butters was a complete softie at heart, but for him to put himself at risk just to help… it only drove the point home that Lightning Bolt had to be stopped at all costs, before anyone else got hurt.

Mysterion pressed the play button on Professor Chaos’ phone, and though it wasn’t the clearest recording in the world — a given, seeing that he used a cheap microphone he found at a yard sale — Professor Chaos and Lightning Bolt’s voices came out clear. Mysterion’s expression darkened at the talk of the old power plant, and what would be involved in gaining access to the equipment inside. After the recording was violently cut short, he stared at the phone for a while as he processed what he’d just heard.

“... Chaos, can you send me that file?” he asked as he handed the phone back to the supervillain. He rose from his seat, his expression troubled as he headed for the door.

“Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Professor Chaos tilted his head, immediately regretting the action when he felt how much it hurt.  “Uh, where’re you going?”

“I need to make a phone call.”

Outside the room, Mysterion made his way to the far end of the hall, and once he assured himself that no one was around, he dialed the number that he’d kept trying for the last few days.

“C’mon…” Mysterion grumbled as the phone rang once… twice… “Pick up, you asshole…”

Mysterion’s heart leapt in his throat when he heard the phone pick up on the fourth ring, right before it would have gone to voicemail; the tone of the one who answered was one of irritation, and he was under the impression that he’d only answered out of duress.

“What do you want, Mysterion?”

“ _Hi_ , Kite. How are you?” Mysterion countered with a sarcastic voice, and he hurriedly continued before the kite-wielder could get another word in. “This isn’t a courtesy call: I’m calling because I’ve just received information that you might be Lightning Bolt’s next target.”

There was a distinct pause at the other end of the line, and for a moment, Mysterion thought that the call might have been disconnected. “Kite, are you th-...”

“I’m here,” The Human Kite answered with a sigh. “Okay, how do you figure that?”

“I spoke to Professor Chaos. He actually recorded the conversation he had with Lightning Bolt. He’s targeting the old power plant on the south side of town — he’s trying to supercharge himself in order to take us both out. He’s having issues getting past the electronic locks, and I have reason to believe he’s going to target you to make you get him past the security.”

There was another pause, and Mysterion frowned when he heard a disbelieving scoff at the other end of the line.

“So let me get this straight: you’re trusting information from Professor Chaos, of all people? I know our numbers are low, but that’s not a reason to believe what a supervillain has to say.”

“Kite, I’m serious — stay on your guard, he might go after you next! We should stick together in case he tries to ambu-...”

“No,” The Human Kite interrupted. “I’m **not** teaming up with you. Why don’t you partner up with Professor Chaos? You and him seem to get along _swimmingly_.”

“Kite, I’m fucking seri-...!” Mysterion groaned as the call abruptly disconnected, and no amount of redialing was getting him back on the line.

“Damn that stubborn asshole,” Mysterion muttered under his breath as he made his way back to Professor Chaos’ room. “He’s going to get himself fucking killed...”

* * *

 

After saying his goodbyes to Mysterion, Professor Chaos was left alone. His meal, as well as the jello he requested, eventually came, but there was only so much he could play with gelatin before it started falling apart. It was only after checking his phone that he realised that he’d be out for four days… four days! What had happened while he was out? Were his minions okay? And was he _grounded_?

As he panicked about the last item, Professor Chaos felt a breeze come in through the window on the other side of the room… had someone left it open? He was kind of surprised that the room actually had a window, given that he was one of South Park’s most notorious supervillains. Huh.

Before he could question the state of the window any further, there was a loud thud from behind the plain grey curtains, and the breeze revealed his visitor: The Coon. Though the superhero was surprisingly mobile, it was clear he wasn’t at his best: large gauze pads dotted his cheeks under his mask, and he moved about woodenly, as if he was fighting against the stiffness of his own muscles. He stared at Professor Chaos wordlessly before hopping the windowsill, landing in the room with a heavy thud.

“The Coon…” Professor Chaos said in a soft voice, though his expression was a maelstrom of tiredness, worry, and relief. “Are you… are you here to finish me off? But uh… I’m not up to fighting you tonight… can’t it wait another day?”

“Heh, yew wish, Chaos,” The Coon replied in an overdramatic gruff voice as he approached the bed. “I just wanted to see how injured South Park’s most notorious supervillain was.”

“You… you climbed all the way up here jus’ to see that?” Professor Chaos widened his eyes, remembering what floor he was actually on.  “Wowee…”

“So what did he do to yew?” The Coon asked as he looked Professor Chaos over, his expression unreadable.

“Well, he uh…  he tied me with live electrical wire…” Professor Chaos swallowed hard as he recalled that night.  “... a-and threatened to fry me alive if Mysterion didn't show up..."

The Coon narrowed his eyes, then, and Professor Chaos could have sworn he could hear the superhero’s fists clench.  “That motherfucker…”

Professor Chaos blinked. “What was that?”

“Oh, uh…” The Coon cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

Was he really that upset? He didn’t think that Eric actually cared… but he seemed really, _really_  angry about the entire situation. It was hard to see his expression past the mask, and he wanted nothing more than to ask him to cut the act and remove it… but, well, this was business.

“Seriously tho’,” the larger superhero continued as he circled the bed, “I was just here to taunt yew. Get better soon so I can stop your lame-ass plans from happening even before yew put them into motion.”

The Coon dashed back towards the window, and before Professor Chaos could say anything, he was gone, the only sign that he’d even been there being the claw marks he’d left on the windowsill. The blond sighed, his shoulders slumping as he was once again left alone.

He shifted a little, intending to get comfortable before resuming staring at the ceiling, and his feet bumped into something that hadn’t been there before; a backpack had been left on the bed — did The Coon leave that there just now? He groaned in pain as he reached for the bag, and once it was in his lap, he unzipped it to check what was inside.

“Ooh…” Professor Chaos gasped under his breath as he began to pull the items out of the bag: there was a worn blue Nintendo 3DS that looked like it’d seen better days, its charger, and a small plastic carrying case with a dozen games inside.

While that was impressive on its own, it was the other item he pulled out that made tears well up in his eyes: Clyde Frog, Cartman’s most treasured stuffed animals.

A small sniffle could be heard from the injured supervillain as he clutched the stuffed frog to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to stop the tears from coming. The comfort and familiarity — not to mention the trust involved with Eric letting him borrow his most important companion — was too much for him, and he cried in silence as he embraced the toy, the first time he let himself go during the entire ordeal.

Eventually, the tears abated, and a few tissues took care of the wetness he’d left behind with his tears. He sighed, his heart feeling lighter, as he looked at Clyde Frog, his blue eyes finally showing a hint of happiness as he squeezed the toy once more.

"So, Clyde Frog…” Professor Chaos sat the stuffed toy on his lap as he picked one of the games from the case. “You want we should see if we can't beat this game together? It'll be like Eric's there with me!"

The toy didn’t answer, but his presence was all the reassurance he needed.

* * *

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling that he's trying to micromanage him, The Human Kite wants nothing to do with Mysterion... but can he fight Lightning Bolt off when he comes calling? Will he be able to hold his own, or will he become yet another pawn in the supervillain's master plan?

" _Kite!"_ Mysterion barked, his tone rising as it became clear he was getting agitated. " _I'm fucking seri-...!"_

It took every ounce of willpower for The Human Kite not to groan as he hit the disconnect button on his bluetooth earpiece, and it was only once he was certain the call had been disconnected that he allowed himself to grumble. How much was Mysterion going to try and micromanage his actions? It was bad enough that he wanted to team up with him "for safety", but now he wanted him to go into hiding because of he  _might_  get targeted?

With the annoyance out of the way, Kite let himself drop off the side of the building he'd landed on in order to take the call. For a moment, it seemed like he was plummeting in an uncontrolled nosedive; he grasped the leather straps on the edges on his kite's supports, and after a quick tug, he was suddenly swept into the air as the currents carried him upwards, well above the buildings that made up the quiet mountain town of South Park.

To Kite, the best thing about being a superhero wasn't his superior intellect, or even his laser vision; it wasn't even the fact that he was able to help the town's citizens with his keen ability to analyse situations and to dispatch criminals in the most efficient way possible. No, to him, it was the gift of flight that was his most treasured power: when he was in the air, he felt like he could accomplish anything, as if his spirits and confidence were soaring as high as he was.

His elation at the flight was short-lived, however, as he saw storm clouds gather overhead at an unnatural speed; the purple and azure clouds swirled together rapidly in a vortex as energy flashed within, and a bolt suddenly shot out from the mass, aimed straight at the airborne superhero.

"Whoa!" Kite tugged on the left strap and he sharply banked downwards in order to dodge the bolt; no sooner had he done that had another bolt streaked right at him, and it was only through sheer reflex that he managed to evade that one as well. Charge after charge came flying at him, as if the heavens themselves were attempting to shoot him out of the heavens, and it became like a game of cat and mouse as the young vigilante artfully evaded the flurry of electrical energy.

Knowing that he was a sitting duck in the open air, Kite dived down, his low trajectory following the deserted highway leading to the base that where they'd met. If only he could make it someplace where the lightning wouldn't be able to reach him...!

What he hadn't accounted for, however, was how much his opponent had control over the electrical devices. The intelligence he'd received from Toolshed was such that despite the sheer power he displayed, Lightning Bolt hadn't had full mastery of his powers. That had evidently changed as one by one, the bulbs of the streetlamps began to shatter in a shower of metal and glass that rained down to the pavement as electricity shot out from the exposed sockets and straight at Kite. Though the first one caught Kite off-guard, he barely managed to avoid the first blast; however, the desperate aerial manoeuvre sent him flying straight into a second blast. Kite screamed in pain as he was thrown back, rolling down the shoulder before finally landing in a heap, his head swimming before darkness took over.

Kite wasn't certain how long he'd been unconscious, but it was when he felt himself get pulled up by the collar that he was jolted back into consciousness. His vision swam as he struggled, the hairs on the back of his head standing on end as a tingling sensation coursed down his arms and legs.

"Well played, Human Kite," a hollow voice sounded as he looked up to see a young man staring down at him, his face half-covered in an ornate gold mask. "But none can escape Lightning Bolt's judgement… especially those who seek to harm South Park."

Kite opened his mouth, intending to counter Lightning Bolt's words; however, instead of sarcasm, a sharp cry of pain escaped his lips as a strong jolt of electricity coursed through his body, his entire body stiffening like a board until the current tapered off. Lightning Bolt didn't say a word as he dropped him on the ground, watching with an air of disdain as Kite shook like a leaf before managing to drag himself up to his knees.

"You will speak when spoken to, " Lightning Bolt commanded as he looked down at the prone superhero. "You are in the presence of a god."

"Y-you're not a fucking god, you son of a bitch..."

Lightning Bolt spread his gloved fingers, and five electrically charged orbs surrounded the superhero, blasting him with a constant stream of electrical energy; Kite's screams lasted until Bolt abruptly cut the current, and he barely let him catch his breath before he repeated the attack, his neutral expression making it clear that he was unaffected by the superhero's cries of pain.

"Now will you listen?" Lightning Bolt asked as the current diminished, and only when Kite nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks did he dismiss the orbs. "Good. Now, when you've caught your breath, please familiarise yourself with your surroundings."

It took Kite a few minutes to recover from the attack — every single one of his muscles felt like they were going to leap out of his body, such were the spasms he was feeling from them. When he felt like he could actually focus, he looked around, suddenly understanding why Lightning Bolt told him that.

They were at the front doors of the old power plant… hadn't it closed in the 1970s? Its location had made it a source of hydroelectricity thanks to its proximity to the river, but it wasn't long before the town's needs outgrew the plant's output. It had been abandoned in favour of an oil and coal plant, and even in the 21st century, the town officials didn't know what to do with it, electing to lock it up and hoping it would disappear.

Wait… wasn't this what Mysterion warned him about?

A dry chuckle escaped Lightning Bolt's lips as he saw the flicker of recognition cross Kite's eyes, and he glanced at the electronic keypad that secured the building. "I see you now understand your role here. Open the door to the power plant."

"So you can supercharge yourself…?" Kite countered in a sarcastic tone; though he was weak, it didn't stop him from being snarking at his attacker. "You're deluded if you think that I'm going to help you..."

"Oh, but you will," Lightning Bolt said, his words sounding even more ominous from behind the mask. "Whether you like it or not, you  _will_  get me into the power plant."

Before Kite could say anything else, Lightning Bolt raised his right hand, and a distressed choke left the superhero's lips as he was suddenly dragged to his feet, sharp jolts of azure energy making his arms and legs spasm as if he were having a seizure. Kite couldn't even cry out in pain as he made his way towards the keypad against his will, his hand seeming to raise out of its own volition. With shaky fingers, he punched in a code — 1 1 1 1 1 1 — before the panel flashed red, a small buzz crackling through the ancient speaker.

Lightning Bolt's furrowed brow and focused gaze made it clear that he was concentrating, but he was able to spare a few words after he entered the second wrong combination — 1 1 1 1 1 2. "There are six digits in the electronic combination… that would result in one million combinations, would it not? I am well aware of the discomfort you are experiencing as I make you enter these codes."

He paused as he directed Kite's hand to punch in the next code — 1 1 1 1 1 3, which also failed to unlock the door. "And I know there's a much,  _much_  easier way for you to unlock this door." A cruel smile crept on Lightning Bolt's lips as he looked at the superhero, whose expression was twisted in pain and agony as a spasm of electricity coursed through him. "But if I need to, I  **will**  force you to enter every single possibility… even if it  _kills you_."

Lightning Bolt could see the fear in Kite's eyes at his proposal, and in order to drive the point home, he directed him to enter another code — 1 1 1 1 1 4 — the red flash and buzz indicating yet another incorrect code. He watched as the vigilante struggled to open his mouth to speak, and he ignored his efforts, forcing him to enter the next code; 1 1 1 1 1 5 failed as well, and he laughed as Kite renewed his efforts to speak, a pitiful croak the only thing he could utter before a spasm seized his vocal cords.

"Have you already forgotten, Human Kite? You shall not speak unless you are spoken to. I might have lost count… shall we restart from the beginning?" he asked as Kite's fingers re-entered the first code, 1 1 1 1 1 1.

Kite widened his eyes, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to scream, yell, even pass out… his muscles were almost at their limit, but Bolt could likely keep up the puppetry for quite a long time. A small smirk graced his otherwise neutral expression at the sight of the desperate plea in Kite's eyes, and he tilted his head in mock concern, Kite's fingers brushing against the keypad.

"Ah, but it's clear that you wish to speak… let us get the distraction out of the way, before I lose my count once more." He loosened the energy around his throat, and Kite gasped as he could finally let out the sob he was choking back, his expression twisted in pain.

"S-s-s-stop… p-p-p-please…" he gasped as he could feel the energy threaten to cut him off again. "I-I'll… I'll…"

"You'll?" Bolt asked as he sent a sharp current through Kite's body, the teen gurgling pitifully as he went into convulsions. "Be quick — my patience wears thin."

"P-p-please, I'll… I-I'll c-cooperate… j-just… s-s-stop…" Kite looked at the supervillain, his eyes pleading. "I… I b-b-beg… you..."

Lightning Bolt immediately cut the current coursing through Kite's body, and the superhero collapsed in a heap in front of the keypad, soft sobbing coming from his broken body. The masked man approached him, looking down at him with a hint of amusement in his one visible eye.

"There… now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

* * *

Though the night was still young, Mysterion wasn't out patrolling like he normally would. Dressed in civilian clothes and pretending to be a normal teenager for once, Kenny McCormick was attempting to get his mind off his recent encounter with Lightning Bolt. The revelation that he was a normal teenager like he was — and one of his classmates at that — was like a kick in the gut to him, and he had retreated back home right afterwards, attempting to distract himself with the few video games that would work on his ancient system. He groaned as he game crashed for the third time that evening, and he pushed his keyboard away before moving over to his bed, his blue eyes gazing upon the cracked ceiling that looked like it was about to shower plaster on him.

Lightning Bolt was Craig… his motivations now made complete sense, as if he'd suddenly been presented with the missing piece of the puzzle that had been eluding him all along. Craig was the one who interrupted his questioning of Tweek — the only one who had been on shift when The Coon had attempted to blow up the coffee shop. Had it been his actions that had prompted him to go after him and his colleagues? There was no other answer — somehow, he must have gotten angry enough at Mysterion to warrant acting in that fashion…

… which meant that the whole thing was his fault.

Kenny flipped over and buried his face in his worn pillow, his sighs muffled by the thin cushion. He'd have to find Bolt and try to explain himself… but would he even listen?

The vibration from his phone jolted him awake, and he let out a swear as he realised he'd fallen asleep. How long had he been out? He rubbed his eyes before noticing the call display, and he frowned as he saw who it was.

"Kite?" he asked as he changed his voice — it came naturally whenever he needed to take on his Mysterion persona.

"... Mysterion…" a faint voice replied, and Kenny had to turn up the volume on his phone in order to hear him. "I… I was wrong… I'm sorry…"

"... Kyle?!" Mysterion asked, his tone incredulous as he listened close. Was he hearing things? No, he was certain that he was hearing his classmate's voice. Kyle Broflovski was the top student in his grade, and while he had a fiery temperament, he didn't think he actually had the courage to be a vigilante.

"Y-yeah… I… I don't even have the strength to fake the voice…" A soft, bitter chuckle could be heard before Kyle sighed. "He… he got me… forced me to program a code breaker… I… I should have listened to you…"

"Kite, where are you?!" Mysterion demanded, interrupting the pitiful apologies he was hearing — those could come later.

"Old power plant…" Kite replied. "B-be careful, though… he's already inside, and… the whole place lit up…"

"I'll be there ASAP," he said as he grabbed the costume he'd carelessly thrown into his closet. While it wasn't the most inspiring of outfits — a purple bodysuit emblazoned with a large M, with a darker cloak, and a mask to hide his face — it was recognisable… if only because he wore a pair of white briefs over his pants.

It'd seemed like a good idea at the time.

Donning his costume, Mysterion dove out of his broken window, ignoring the sharp cuts he got from the leftover glass. The power plant wasn't far from where he was… but he had no idea what would be there when he'd arrive.

* * *

The first thing he noticed that there was a lot more light in the area than there was before; the old power plant had been dark since before he was born, and it was lit up like a Christmas tree. While the turbines weren't operating at full power as of yet, it was clear that they were generating power, and the idea that Bolt had his hands on a source of electricity did not sit well with Mysterion.

Jumping the chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter, Mysterion dashed towards the front door. He's almost mistaken the heap at the threshold as just more debris that had blown in, but the sight of a tattered strip of orange and yellow cloth caught his eye, and he inhaled sharply as he realised that it was the Human Kite. It was understandable that he didn't recognise him, however; his costume was in tatters, what was left of it singed beyond recognition. Covered in cuts, bruises, and electrical burns, he looked like he'd been kicked around for sport and discarded when the game was over. His kite was broken in several pieces, and the tablet he usually carried lay next to him, the screen shattered in a million pieces.

"Kite… Kite!" Mysterion took his colleague's broken body in his arms, his eyes wide with fear and concern as he watched him open his eyes. The green eyes that stared back at him were dull, though he saw a flicker of relief in them as Kite stared back at him.

"You made it… good…" he said in a quiet voice, his voice sounding raw as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Kite, hang in there, I'll take you to emergen-..."

"No…" Kite interrupted, and he shook his head slowly. "You… you have to stop him… he's charging up…" The injured superhero coughed as he struggled to speak. "You're the only one who… who can stop him… so… you have to go…"

"Don't be stupid, Kite!" Mysterion shouted as he glared at Kite. "We can take him out later! Let's just go to t-..."

"Mysterion…" Kite said as his voice dropped below a whisper. "Just… fucking listen to me for once… okay…? Please…"

Mysterion hissed under his breath as the body in his arms grew limp, and he gently set him down, straightening up as he gave him one last look.

"Stubborn asshole until the end, huh…" Mysterion muttered under his breath as he shook his head. "Fine… I'll listen to you… just this once, though."

Deep down inside, however… he hoped he'd have another chance to argue with him.

The front door had been thrown wide open, and Mysterion dashed inside. It almost looked like he was on some kind of movie set, or that he got sent back in time somehow; while the main room was lit, the turbines moved sluggishly as they turned for the first time in four decades. Still, they generated power, which was being drawn into the person that was floating in the middle of the room, his eyes heavenward as he absorbed the electricity, lightning swirling around him as he charged.

"Bolt!" Mysterion called out. "You need to stop this right now! This is all just a huge misunderstanding!"

" **A misunderstanding?** " Bolt asked, his voice amplified more than it was before. " **Oh no, Mysterion… this isn't a misunderstanding at all.** " He opened his eyes, and they immediately flared up with a burst of azure electricity, even from behind the mask; even the whites of his eyes shined with the same energy, but there was no mistaking the hatred and animosity that they projected.

" **I, Lightning Bolt, judge you to be a plague upon the town of South Park, Mysterion,"**  he intoned as he clenched his fists, lightning spilling out from between his fingers. " **And for that… your punishment is** _ **death**_ **."**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a fight to the finish between Mysterion and Lightning Bolt! Will Lightning Bolt attain his goal of defeating all the vigilantes of South Park, or will Mysterion manage to get the upper hand?

Tweek stared at the literal mountain of homework on his desk, and he sighed as he pulled his History book out from the middle of the pile and threw it open to the page he'd marked off with a tattered sticky note. Because he had to take so many shifts at his parents' store - not by choice - he had a tendency to fall behind on his homework. His teachers were understanding for the most part, but it meant that whenever he had a day off where he didn't hang out with his friends, he was stuck doing homework.

Spring break was no exception to this rule; while his other friends were out partying and doing whatever normal kids did during the week-long holiday, he was either stuck working or catching up on schoolwork. His week had been quiet, something he hadn't expected; the shop would be frequented by students even while on break, but he was surprised that no one had paid him a visit. With the exception of Craig, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Token and Clyde, and even Jimmy, who had a tendency to come in whenever he had a good joke to tell, hadn't seen any sign of them.

Had his friends abandoned him? He didn't want to believe it, but his rampant paranoia was hard at work, creating scenarios in which they had decided to form their own crew - one that excluded him.

The sound of ripping paper tore the blond out of his paranoid musing, and he let out a small squeak of consternation when he realised he'd torn a page of his history book, the centre of the page caught in the vise that had been his clenched fist. He loosened his grip and attempted to smooth out the page somewhat before giving up; it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that.

Still… where was everyone? Did they abandon him?

A crash of thunder made Tweek jump out of his chair, and he immediately slipped under his desk, his hands over his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. They hadn't announced any thunderstorms today… why now? Especially when he was trying to catch up?!

Only when the rumbling abated did he poke his head outside of the confines of his hiding spot, and he looked around, his eyes scrutinising every corner of his room before coming out. Moving to the window, he saw that there was no rain… in fact, he could still see the stars outside.

Had he imagined it?

Another peal rumbled overhead, and although he let out a small screech, he managed to stay his ground; this wasn't a normal thunderstorm, and he ran downstairs, bursting through the front door in order to see what was going on.

His neighbourhood was quiet; few lights were on at this hour, and the stars shined overhead. To the south, however, was a vortex of green and purple clouds swirling overhead, bolts of lightning coursing through them like apocalyptic scene. The phenomenon seemed to be localised, though try as he might, Tweek couldn't think of what was over that was… just some abandoned stuff?

As thunder rumbled overhead, Tweek brushed his hair out of his eyes as he watched the clouds. A sense of familiarity crept into his heart as the clouds swirled, and he stood there, entranced, as he watched the lightning dance overhead. It was only when a bolt of lightning crashed down below the swirling clouds did he snap out of it did he scream, retreating to the safety of his bedroom at breakneck speeds.

The lightning wouldn't be able to reach him there… would it?

* * *

" **I, Lightning Bolt, judge you to be a plague upon the town of South Park, Mysterion,"**  he intoned as he clenched his fists, lightning spilling out from between his fingers. " **And for that… your punishment is** _ **death**_ **."**

A lance of pure electrical energy formed from what was gathered in Lightning Bolt's right fist, and no sooner had he formed it than he hurled it straight at Mysterion, who dodged it with a quick tumble under one of the pieces of ancient machinery. He pulled out his gun, and he kept his eyes on the lightning god as he dashed out from under his hiding spot; loaded with actual bullets instead of the rubber ones he'd used in his previous encounter, the firearm was his last resort against criminals. He preferred dying than to take a life, but killing wasn't his intention as he aimed for the supervillains' leg, hoping to disable him. As the shots rang out, however, they were suddenly stopped in mid-air, his bullets landing in a useless pile on the debris-laden floor as a forcefield shimmered around Lightning Bolt.

" **It's useless, Mysterion!** " the self-proclaimed god crowed as he gathered another electrical charge in his palm. " **With the energy generated by this power plant, I have become unstoppable!** "

Lightning Bolt gestured, and an electrical panel next to Mysterion flared to life, emitting a discharge that made the vigilante grunt in pain. As he turned to get away from the electrical burst, he was shocked by another discharge from another panel. It was then he found himself surrounded by a host of overloaded instruments, some of which were rumbling in a sense that made him believe that they were going to explode at any moment; only through quick thinking - his grappling hook snagging an overhead pipe that pulled him upwards - did he manage to narrowly avoid the blast.

Now that he was airborne, he could finally fight Lightning Bolt on even footing; as he propelled himself forward, he released the hook, shooting it once more as he made his way towards where the supervillain was hovering. On his third shot, he launched himself towards Lightning Bolt; while his well-aimed kick to his torso was nowhere near enough to take him down, he was able to knock him out of the air, his static shield fizzling into nothingness as he landed in a heap.

" **You dare… you DARE fight a god?!** " Lightning Bolt screeched as he dragged himself to his feet; a quintet of electrical bolts flew towards Mysterion, who dodged them as he ran towards his enemy.

"Yes, I dare!" he shouted as he aimed a punch at Lightning Bolt, who staggered back from the impact. "What's wrong, Bolt… didn't take the time to practice your hand-to-hand technique?" he continued as he delivered a powerful roundhouse kick that made the godling crash into one of the green metal cylinders that littered the floor.

" **SILENCE!** " Lightning Bolt roared as he ran up to Mysterion. Caught off-guard by the sudden close-range attack, the caped vigilante felt all the air leave his lungs as his opponent pushed a wall of lightning into him. He cried out in pain as his limbs started seizing, and he twitched as he pulled a string of firecrackers out from his utility belt, throwing them as another pair of bolts snaked their way towards him; the impact of the two creating an explosion that made smoke mixed with sulfur rain upon the pair, though seeing as he expected the outcome Mysterion was the first to escape the immediate area.

As Lightning Bolt struggled to get away from the tear-inducing smoke, Mysterion dashed towards one of the steam pipes in the area. He heard Lightning Bolt screech in rage as a flurry of electrically-charged discs came flying out of the smoke, and though he avoided the one that came flying right towards it, it cut through the pipe as if it were butter, hot steam spilling out right in Mysterion's face. The vigilante hollered in pain as he covered his eyes, staggering back against the wall, and he felt a pair of gloved hands clench around his neck, lifting him up in the air as his entire body began convulsing.

" **What shall I do with you, hm?** " Lightning Bolt mused aloud as he held the vigilante in the air. " **Shall I control you like a puppet like I did with the Human Kite? Or shall I bury you beneath rock and metal like I did with The Coon?** " The supervillain let out a peal of crazed laughter as he simply threw Mysterion up onto one of the upper catwalks of the plant, and the masked superhero cried out in pain as he hit the metal floor.

" **Or perhaps…** " the supervillain continued as he flew up and grabbed Mysterion by the cape, swinging him around like a toy before throwing him down into a bank of pressure canisters. " **... perhaps I shall make an example out of you! When the town sees their so-called symbol of hope crumble, they will see how foolish they were to put their trust in you all!** "

Lightning Bolt floated down, the tassels of his poncho fanning out as he landed on Mysterion. His looked down at the vigilante with a derisive sneer as he stepped on his face with his sandaled foot, digging his heel into his cheekbones as his cries of pain echoed through the facility. When he'd had enough, he swooped down, picking him up by the collar and throwing him down onto the open floor.

"None of you shall harm South Park ever again," he said as he approached Mysterion, a crackling ball of white and azure lightning forming in his hand. Mysterion looked up, his blue eyes still shining defiantly, even as he struggled to sit up.

He couldn't move. Everything hurt. It didn't matter if he went down like the others… but he wasn't going to give Lightning Bolt the satisfaction of a win.

"Fine…" he croaked. "Kill me… I don't give a fuck..." The vigilante ignored the god's manic laughter, continuing to look straight at him. "... But when I'm gone… who's going to protect Tweek from you…?"

There was a flicker in Lightning Bolt's one visible eye at Mysterion's words, and seeing that, the masked vigilante continued. "Look at yourself, Bolt… this isn't like you. You're usually the deadpan snarker… You can be mean, but you never go out of your way to harm people." Mysterion winced as he felt a rib shift, and he willed himself to ignore the pain. "I understand your frustration… I was too hard on Tweek, and you got angry because of it… and yes, maybe we're not careful enough as vigilantes about these things." He looked up at Lightning Bolt, then, his expression firm. "You've turned into everything you hate, Bolt… and… and everything Tweek hates..."

Lightning Bolt's expression was one of shock and self-realisation as he listened to Mysterion's words, and the ball of electrical energy fizzled as his hand dropped limply to his side. He stared at Mysterion as he raised his hand, removing the mask that concealed the left side of his face. His blue eyes reflected the torment he felt inside as he sank to his knees, the mask clattering to the floor between them.

"This… this isn't what I wanted…" Craig said in a quiet voice as he stared at Mysterion in horror. "... this isn't what I wanted at all…"

"... I know…" Mysterion replied, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he shakes his head at the raven-haired teen. "... I know…"

The sound of operating machinery and severed steam pipes echoed through the abandoned facility, burying the heartbroken sobs coming from the floor below.

* * *

Led by the strange weather phenomena and the sounds of battle, the police had converged on the old power plant. Lightning Bolt had been taken away by the authorities while Mysterion and the Human Kite had been taken to hospital, although the masked vigilante had politely declined the ambulance ride.

The gears of justice turned slowly when it came to South Park's administration, but his trial had been surprisingly swift - tried as an adult due to his age, he received a sentence of life imprisonment, without possibility of parole for 25 years. He supposed he should have been grateful that Colorado didn't believe in the death penalty, but still… 25 years was a long time.

As the raven-haired teen sat in his cell in solitary confinement, clad in a bright orange jumpsuit, he reflected on what Mysterion had told him during the battle. He really had become everything he hated, hadn't he…?

He only hoped that Tweek would forgive him.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

**» Park County Jail, One Month Later, 3:24 PM «**

A buzzer sounded from the facility's loudspeakers, indicating to Craig that someone had entered his block. After a month of being locked up in solitary confinement, however, he paid the noises no heed: it was usually guards checking up on him, or to bring him food. It was time for neither, so he rested on his cot, his eyes closed as he tried to get a quick nap before he had to do chores.

The sound of several pairs of footsteps could be heard in the hallway leading up to his cell, but it was only when they stopped that he cracked an eye open. He wasn't surprised to see the pair of guards staring at him, or even the police commissioner, but the third person - Mysterion - is what made him sit up.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mysterion?" the police commissioner asked as he eyed the raven-haired teen with an expression of doubt.

"I'm positive, commissioner," Mysterion replied as he stared at Craig. "Now please let us have a private conversation."

The commissioner sighed as he nodded to one of the guards, and a buzzer sounded before the door to his cell slid open. As soon as Mysterion cleared the threshold, the door slid shut again, and the guards and commissioner cleared out, leaving the two alone.

"I've seen worse cells," Mysterion commented as he looked around. "You should see where they put the serial killers."

"What do you want, Mysterion?" the teen asked, his expression a mask of neutrality as he stared at the vigilante. "Have you come to gloat?"

"No," Mysterion replied with a shake of his head. "I've come to give you the terms of your release. It's a formality, really - the prison has to ensure they have a recorded version of it on the security cameras before they send you through the check out."

Terms of release? Check out? No... he was hearing things, right?

"... that's not funny, Mysterion." Craig countered, his expression becoming sour. "You shouldn't tease someone like that."

"It's not a tease - you're going home within the hour. Less, if we can hurry this along." The vigilante frowned as he glanced back at the commissioner, who was far enough that he wasn't in the pair's face, but close enough that he could hear the entire conversation. "I assumed they would've told you before I came."

"They told me nothing." A flicker of frustration crossed Craig's expression before he continued. "What are you talking about? I was told I wouldn't be eligible for parole for at least 25 years."

Mysterion shrugged as he leaned against one of the nearby walls. "Several departments owed me a few favors," he said in a casual tone. "So long as you agree to the terms, you'll be a free man to do as you please. For the most part."

"... alright," Craig said, though his tone still carried suspicion. "I'm listening."

"First," Mysterion held out a finger. "No interfering with the work of the vigilantes. If you have a direct issue with how we're performing our civil duties, you inform me. Two," he held up a second finger. "Stay out of the public eye for the time being. The only ones who know about your release are myself and a few key persons. And third…"

Mysterion paused as he seemed to consider his words. "Third, the board won't be assigning you a parole officer to monitor your activities. Also, given your affinity for electricity, they felt an ankle monitor was a bit of a lost cause." The vigilante narrowed his eyes before continuing. "In lieu of this, I'll legally be your parole officer; outside of that, I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you keep your head down. … unless, of course, you'd prefer to stay in prison until your parole hearing."

"Er…" Craig cleared his throat - if that was Mysterion's attempt at humour, then it was a poor attempt at it. "No, that's fine." Craig shifted on his cot as a question came to mind. "How would you be monitoring me? And for how long? I'm kind of at a disadvantage: you know my civilian identity. It would be really embarrassing if you pop up when I'm having a night out with a friend."

"Don't worry, I don't intend to disrupt your personal life. That would ruin the point of this entire release." Mysterion glanced at the ceiling's single light bulb as he continued. "We'll arrange a meeting place where you can show up as Bolt. If you're spotted, then we'll just stage an arrest and say you escaped and you're back into custody. So long as you display good behaviour though, I don't think that you'll have to return here at all."

"I see," Craig replied as he leaned against the wall next to his cot. He could have faked thinking about it, but in reality, he wanted nothing more than to get out of prison and to start rebuilding his life.

To him, there was only one answer he could give to Mysterion's proposal.

"I agree to the conditions you've set forth, Mysterion."

"Then I pronounce you free of the system, Lightning Bolt."

Craig watched as Mysterion pulled out a bag that he'd concealed within his cape, and he caught it in his lap as it was thrown at him. He stared at the contents in confusion as he peered inside - the clothes he'd arrived in, along with his mask.

"I'll be waiting outside," Mysterion said as he stuck gloved a hand out between the bars to signal the guards. "Get dressed and they'll get you sorted."

"Alright…" Craig nodded, and it was only when the guards opened the door to let Mysterion out did he continue. "I, er… thanks. I mean it."

Mysterion turned to Craig, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his usual serious expression. "Don't mention it."

As the door closed, leaving Craig with some privacy to change, Mysterion left with a swish of his cape, leaving the teen standing there. He still felt it was too good to be true, but even if it wasn't, he'd take the chance.

This was his chance to atone.

**~ The End ~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, okay. This is the final chapter, and... wow. What a ride. I never thought this fic would ever get this long, or that I'd have so many people interested in it.
> 
>  
> 
> First off, I want to extend some very special thanks to the following people:
> 
>   * My lifemate [Sky](http://muses.alcedea.net/), who was always there when I was tempted to throw the fic out the window. 
>   * [Quincy](http://mysterxon.tumblr.com), who's actually my Kenny/Mysterion, who helped me flesh things out through RP. 
>   * [Mama Eerie](http://earily.tumblr.com/), who was my writing partner for the whole month of April for Camp NaNoWriMo (I probably wouldn't be done if not for her). 
>   * Myrna, Tsun, Lud, Miki, Riley, and Ooke, who had to endure the fact that I wouldn't shut up about the fic. 
>   * And you! *cheesy rainbow and stars* 
> 

> 
> The sequel to this fic will be started in July for Camp NaNoWriMo, so please look forward to it! In the meantime, I'll be taking a break and writing some K2.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


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